Schrödinger
by Colorful Crime
Summary: Words spoken at an exact place and time will always bring change, however slight - and it's always a question of it being for better, or for worse. And how do we know which of the two it is? Sometimes, just because it's what the box shows when it's open, doesn't mean it's all there is to it.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own OreGaIru. All characters are the intellectual property of Wataru Watari, the author of the light novel series.**

* * *

A saying I've heard goes along the lines of " _fathers are the pillars upon which the house stands._ " **[1]**

In the literal sense, it means that the patriarch works through much of his days in order to earn what would become the living expenses of the family. Ultimately, his working status dictates as well the comforts, conveniences, and services enjoyed by the family, as well as (somehow) the social status they rank in.

However, suffice to say, the literal application of such a saying only goes so far to become _one_ of the father's significant roles in life.

In a less utilitarian sense, the father provides guidance to the children—just as the mother would do, too. But as it was dictated by history since time immemorial that men would come to understand other men in a far more elaborate way that dwarfs connections with those of the opposite gender, perhaps the relegation of the task of guiding the son would belong better to the father.

Why so?

Maybe it's the way fathers serve early on as inspirations of what the son wishes to be in the future.

Maybe it's the way fathers show affection with their spouse that the son wishes to experience finding such love (read: disappointment) in the future.

Or maybe it's just that deep-seated connection between all men that each is bound to do something stupid later on, and that we as the triumphant male species that we are ought to watch out for one another.

I'm not sure, to be perfectly honest.

I mean, my father, as the corporate slave that he is, works around the clock (alongside my mother) and performs with efficiency the utilitarian side of the patriarchy. And because work (read: office leash) keeps him and my mother busy, the time we spend together as a family is quite sparse. Not to say that my and my little sister's relationship with them was bad; it wasn't good either. Perhaps awkward would be suffice to describe it? Or the cliched "distant"? Either way, they don't spend much time at home, and what little conversations we had discussed nothing else but how well we were at home, and how we did in school.

With such a relationship, even I was sure that I was a loner well away from my parents—they've become people who I would only interact with when I _needed_ to, and I wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that. Then again, parents becoming distant with their children is not an all-too uncommon phenomenon amongst families; it does happen well and truly in reality. Problem was that from such a kind of relationship born was the strain and stress within both parent and child—and such a thing could not end so well, if so much of it was pent up behind a dam which had been constructed for a long time already.

But, I digress.

Being a loner even to my parents meant that they knew me only superficially. To them, the person that was Hikigaya Hachiman cared about school as much as his average grades and test scores; spent his free time reading books, playing with his beloved Vita-chan, or watching anime (worship the almighty PreCure, dammit!); was doting on his sister; and was socially awkward.

The Hachiman they knew as a son was but a mask that hid something else behind it. Could it be sinister, and unacceptable to the eyes of many? The answer to that was up to whoever was being asked. Frankly speaking, it's not even an issue to begin with, because behind the veneer of going through the everyday routine that was required of me in society was something so staggeringly simple that it made me a little embarrassed to admit it:

Hikigaya Hachiman is lonely.

I know, I know. Sappy. Cliched. But who was I to deny the truth? If there was one thing I hated, it was lies and people who spoke them, and so I would never outright lie—half-truths were the closest that I could muster with my wits, and that was with me following my creed against falsification of words of any kind.

How lonely was I? Surely, I had my sister, but spending time with her was a given—we were siblings, after all.

Maybe it's just the immaturity in me seeking acceptance and attention. After all, I never did quite receive those from my parents. Food, clothes, shelter, materials, and education—as much as I was thankful to be given the bare essentials of getting through the early legs of my life, the selfish child within me was still seeking that which I never quite got, either from the heads of my family or from others.

 _Sigh._

Whatever led me to the rumination of such things?

* * *

Thinking about it, I could say with complete and utter confidence that the "me" of middle school was quite the naive and troublesome individual. For the sake of this line of thought, I would like to present my former self as "M8man," while the me of the present as "H8man."

I know—the names sound like a very bad joke, but please bear with me; humor was the furthest thing from my imagination just now!

Now, M8man is someone who would seek to _at least_ be recognized as an existing human being—complete with the needed basic features, but non-inclusive of:

a) academic excellence, barring knowledge of humanities (I _do_ have something I don't suck at);

b) devilishly charming good looks;

c) a clique of friends (is that something you eat…?); and

d) social skills worthy of a harem anime protagonist.

M8man is also fond of Nice Girls—a species that he believes to be worth falling head over heels for, and the only other subcategory of females that would dare interact with a lowly third-rate magus such as himself. **[2]** However, though his interactions with such a kind would be akin to hitting the jackpot with the Masuda method **[3]** , his experience nonetheless makes his heart skip beats with just the thought of Nice Girls; most especially if the encounters feature the rumored "Mail Address Exchange Event," the "I'll Help You Out Event," or the illustrious "I'm Sort Of Hinting that I Like You Flag."

Thus, M8man had thought to himself that experiences that encompass the riajuu wouldn't be so bad, and that Nice Girls especially would be more forthcoming as targets of effort, infatuation, kindness, and attention.

—Utterly laughable, isn't it? It was exactly from this naivety, this _idiotic_ way of thinking, that M8man was killed and cast into the fiery pits of Hell. Dante and Vergil might as well have passed him by and laughed at him **[4]**.

No, no. Such a statement, to be honest, would be giving away incomplete information—M8man's behavior was only a part of that transformation (albeit an important factor, wholly speaking). What had turned such an idiot away from an equally idiotic belief was an eye-opening experience, one that H8man is eternally thankful for having come across with in his life:

H8man's creation was spurned forth by his father.

* * *

The memory of that day could be said as one I could recall as easily as the fact that I loved MAXX Coffee.

The Hikigaya matriarch, in what I had construed back then as her abusing her position and ruining my early trip home, had commanded me to deliver some documents my father had left behind. I might have grumbled as I rode my trusty steed off into the sunset (read: I rode my bike into the late afternoon), but nonetheless it was a job well done—I made it to my dad's office in record time, and I was even blessed with a can of the finest nectar made to be tasted by gods. Before I could hurry back home, however, my father had stopped me in my tracks with a spur-of-the-moment idea.

"Why not stay and watch what your old man does for a living?"

I wanted to sneer, snark, and laugh at such a proposition—even when I was M8man, I've already painted a bad picture for corporate slaves in my mind. But maybe it was because I saw something lie behind my father's eyes, something that to this day I could not properly describe, that I had agreed to the idea and set aside the one of going home.

I was honestly surprised—deeply fascinated, even—with what my dad _actually_ did for a living.

I had always alluded to his work as an ordinary salaryman; partly because I never asked my parents in particular what they did (they'd always worn what salarymen and office workers did, so I've always assumed), and partly because of what papers I would see sometimes strewn all over the dinner table.

What my father did was sit in a room with three job applicants across him, separated by distance and a table in front of him. From what little I knew of these kinds of procedures, the numbers would usually be in reverse: three interviewees, and one applicant. Aside from that, only the resume would be the document with the interviewees.

"Now, I want you to list down their names, and write a prediction on whether or not I'll hire them or not."

* * *

Applicant #1: Kiryuu Kouhei.

The blonde was as young as the other two that followed him into the room. There was something to his gait that I found pompous, and the way his eyes glossed over me was nothing short of condescending. His posture radiated confidence, and you could tell that his suit was quite expensive.

My 8 Sense is tingling! **[5]** My brain has come to the conclusion that dad would be dealing with a person of high ranking in terms of the Hikigaya Classification of Riajuus.

This was tier 4: Pretentious Dick. Not necessarily a risk, but if his mind and talent backs up his talk, he'll be insufferable.

Well, at least the company would profit from him then—attitude notwithstanding.

Applicant #2: Asakura Yuuto

The beads of sweat pooling on his temples and the way his eyes roamed the room spoke of uncertainty and anxiety. Perhaps this was his first interview? If it was, then this was basically the stepping stone to conquering the next few ones he has. With how his nerves are just messing him up, I could confidently say that this would not be the last job interview he has—it may be the first, but it'll be sure to teach him a few tips and tricks he'd ought to use for the next ones.

Of course, I could also be completely wrong, and underneath all that bundle of jitteriness was an unpolished gem that could end up a diamond in the rough.

But not everyone is as lucky on the first try, anyway. If he was, a monochrome bear might just be waiting to abduct him somewhere. **[6]**

Applicant #3: Tanikawa Mari

… If I wasn't unnerved by the way her eyes just seemed to shine with _ice_ , I'd give her a 123455432345676567 out of 10 for looking the way she did for the interview. I mean, _good Lord_ , doesn't her attire just seem _a little_ tight?!

Looking as well as she did should be a crime. But if it was, then I'd naturally be in prison for looking just as good!

… Ahem.

She seemed relax, though. Not quite exuding confidence like Malfoy **[** **7** **]** beside her, but she carried herself with an assured grace. No tension littered her face, nor did her eyes betray any sort of anxiety. Mari-san, to sum it up, was like the calm before the storm—the serenity that you appreciate briefly, before Hell is unleashed upon your poor soul.

Now, Hachiman's predictions:

Kiryuu – IN (ugh, I think my fingers died when I wrote this)

Asakura – OUT (he'll be lucky to make it out rejected without an aneurism)

Tanikawa – IN (hear me out; it's not just the looks! I mean, there _are_ anime with great plot under their _already great plot_ _s_!)

"Good afternoon. I am Hikigaya Nanashi, and I will be assessing you today to see whether or not we'll see each other soon at work, or I'll be asking you to vacate this room."

The dull tone and one-dimensional delivery sounded so practiced that it made dad look so disinterested with them. However, the look he sent their way was anything but such—and the three actually flinched.

"Shall we begin?"

* * *

My father, as a human resource specialist, was tasked with hiring only the _most_ capable and needed assets for their company—no more, no less. He'd only been doing this for the past six years, but within those six years the company had no one but the best of the best working for them, and such a thing has led to a corporate success wherein my dad was probably MVP without having needed to score the most points in the court.

He was trusted enough by the company _president_ to be the _only_ interviewee. He grilled these applicants as if they were witnesses to the crime, and he was their judge, jury, and executioner. He did not only know them through documents they submitted, he'd gather a list of them _prior_ to the interview, and have the company do an extensive backgrounding about them—essentially, he possessed more information about them than even themselves. Everything they said and did during the interview were scrutinized without failure, and used to determine their potential and value right then and their. And if they were passable enough, he would hire them on the spot.

For me? It was a frightening, fascinating, and entertaining spectacle.

Dad's eyes had a scary glint reminiscent of a predator in his dead-fish, Hikigaya eyes. His words were sharp, concise, and brutally truthful. He knew when the poor idiots were lying, and knew enough when to bait them slipping up a well-made lie into a tangled mess. He could read their body language like a poorly written novel, and wring them out like a rapidly spinning washing machine.

By the end of an hour and a half, he had finished a seven batches of three—21 applicants all in all.

"So, Hachiman. Let me see what you've thought of these people."

With my 21 predictions written on a scrap sheet of paper, I was a bit disappointed in myself—none of my predictions were right, at all.

"None, huh. Well, goes to show what a fool you are."

The man might not have been there for me much of my life to know how much of a person I was turning out to be, but there was something pulling me back from snapping at him, and instead made me feel a little bad about what so little I thought to giving away my trust to people.

"… Mind telling me why you did this?"

He swirled his can of MAXX Coffee in hand (probably the only similarity he and I had aside from devilishly handsome looks and alluring eyes) and chuckled a bit, before meeting my eyes and replying.

"I haven't been there for you and Komachi as much as I would've wanted to, and I know that there are… tensions when it comes to our parent-child relations."

Well, that was putting the issue mildly, but it wasn't incorrect per se.

"I admit that today was just a sudden idea, and that I myself don't understand mostly why I did what I did and showed you what I actually do here." Another sip of coffee, and a playful look graced his face. "Mind you, it isn't to disillusion you in your belief with corporate slavery—I understand your belief in it, and would go far enough to say that I agree with you in some ways."

I raised a brow at him, actually surprised that he knew my opinion on such a system. Then again, if he could read these applicants as if they were some inconsequential footnotes in a book, then why not his children for that matter?

"Perhaps it was just because I can see some of my past in you, and if there is one thing I would perhaps come to regret when it comes to raising my children is that it would be to see them reach the same naive conclusions as I did in my youth, and change completely for the worse.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with making mistakes—these are the best teachers in life, after all. Paradoxically, there are mistakes _not worth_ making. At all. Because these are the ones that can pull the wool over your eyes, and make you see nothing else but the selfish notions that you would stubbornly follow without hesitation.

"What I'm saying is that I at least want you to get rid of your youthful naiveté, and look at things from a different perspective. Learn to look between the lines, but not too much. Learn to accept things for what they are, but never be too trusting."

I wanted to tell him to screw himself over, feeling a little annoyed with how he could easily say that I was a naive idiot who would be screwing himself with the same mistakes done by his old man. I wanted to get angry and tell him to bend over and stick his advice where the sun didn't shine. I wanted to throw my can of coffee (no matter how sacrilegious the action was) at him and shout all the indignities I could for actually, and only trying, to be a father _now_ when in before he _couldn't_.

But all I could do then, was see the logic and the sense his words made, and the fact that he did—and does—care about me to an extent, despite the situation that we were quite the distant pair. But for me to have been read so easily by this man, by my father, and for him to take action that was for my benefit, even with a little self-gratification on his part, I would be lying if I didn't say I wasn't touched at the very least.

A small smile cracked on my expression. "Well, at least you've confessed to something."

Confusion grows on his face. "And that is?"

"For a corporate slave who seems _a little_ cool, you were a naive idiot back then."

"Well, we idiots are the byproduct of one another. Just as much as we don't need an extra amount of greenhouse gases, the world could do much better with less of us—don't you think so?"

I smirk. "Who knows?"

He smirks back. "Well, I for one, did not crush on a Nice Girl, who I might've planned to confess to tomorrow because she's been nice to me for a few months now—isn't that right?"

My mouth went slack, and I could feel the blood rush to my face.

 _How?! How could he know?!_

The smug expression on Hikigaya Nanashi's face turns teasing, but the weight of his words and what followed brought some sort of grim finality to me that would transform me (hopefully) for the better.

"There's a certain rule _my kind_ says when it comes to dealing with annoyingly Nice Girls…"

 _ **Don't**_ **.**

* * *

 **[1]** This is a common saying in the regular Filipino households. Not sure if it holds the same with other cultures or countries (well, I guess it does in a way), but perhaps the contention is nevertheless truthful.

 **[2]** Fate Stay/Night reference. Rin loves to rub into Shirou's face the fact that he is one, for having subpar ineptitude in thaumaturgy.

 **[3]** In Pokemon games, a method used to up the chances of finding a shiny Pokemon is through such a method, wherein you breed two Pokemons from different regions (ie., a Japanese Ditto with a female US Charmander).

 **[4]** Dante Alighieri's _Inferno_.

 **[5]** Spider Man. Shame on you if you don't get it. Go educate yourself.

 **[6]** Upupupupupupu~

 **[7]** Draco Malfoy from the _Harry Potter_ series, written by J. K. Rowling. The bloke's a real insufferable git.

 **Hello, hello! Debut work here, ladies and gents. An idea that's been playing around the playground in my brain, and I hope to polish it here along with my writing.**

 **I'm new, so your comments and feedback would be appreciated. Leave a review, drop a line—I'll see you soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

According to the Hikigaya Classification of Riajuus (authored by yours truly), there exists a tier that cannot be given a specific value for its rank—it wasn't because it was something far beyond comprehension that riajuus themselves, ironically, could not fathom its existence, nor was it because it paled it comparison to the either tiers already existing (such as the deliciously dumb tier 6).

The reason for such a crisis is that there is no true way to ascertain the danger posed by tier ?: Nice Girls.

Existing samples belonging to this tier (they are also a species unto themselves, just to clarify) are paradoxical in simple nature alone—while their capacity to do good and spread their inherent pleasantness is as acceptable as plants giving off oxygen, their capacity to wound is conversely as debilitating.

Of course, one of you normalfags would sooner or later point out something like "How the hell should a girl being kind to you hurt you?!" And then all hell would break loose, with a faction declaring itself the representative for all that is good and loving of Nice Girls, and another, bloodthirsty group demanding that they be given back the innocence that was robbed from them by said subspecies of females.

Surely, though, not everyone campaigns to support the existence of these no-rank scrubs! **[1]**

Getting back to the point, the reason Nice Girls become so fearsome is that the longer you spend time around them, the more that your perspective on their kindness becomes skewed and narrowed—it reaches a point where you think _you_ are the only target of their nature, and that this translates to _affection_ , and that any other male receiving similar treatment to yours becomes a _threat_ to your romantic plans. And thus, with such a skewed view from behind rose-tinted glasses, you move in for the kill, spill your heart, and ask them to wear yours around their neck like an accessory.

And because they are Nice Girls, who would rather everyone be friends and would not consider your feelings enough to move the mountains where their hearts stand, they would turn you down as you wait, holding out your heart as it bled dry in front of them.

It's stupid to generalize for all girls under this tier—you can never really say that a girl is nice for the fact that she just wants to appear nice. Such a thinking is too narrow-minded and fatalistic, anchored in the belief that an inherently kind person who is kind for the sake of being so does not exist anymore.

And this is the quandary presented by the tier of Nice Girls:

As dangerous as they are, there are a number of them who are genuine enough to be passable people.

As pleasing as they sound, there are a number of them who hide their intentions behind assumed roles and false facades.

On that related note, it's suffice to say that Orimoto Kaori is of the latter.

* * *

It was a whole week later, after I spent a little more time under the tutelage of my Sith master **[2]** , that I had executed a carefully concocted plan in order to ascertain just what kind of tier Orimoto occupied within the boundaries of the Hikigaya Classification of Riajuus (for all intents and purposes of my mind's ease, this would be referred to as HCP in the future).

Thanks to the interference of my old man, and a few days of constant debate consisting of me defending my personal life and him drilling into my head the notion that Nice Girls wanted to take over the world (read: break hearts, worsen global warming, start World War III), the seed of doubt planted within me had grown into a young sproutling—and thus has my view on Nice Girls forever been skewed.

But then again, the fact remained that some girls were just nice to maintain an image; a falsification of their true selves in order to stay rooted within the upper echelon of the working society.

That same fact reminded me of why I had to fight down my doubts and think logically on this:

I hated _lies—anything_ and _anyone_ associated with the very act.

And this included girls who were nice for the sake of impressions.

Prior to this, I've always thought of Orimoto Kaori as perhaps a sister-like kind of person—one who would show concern over people with the barest of troubles, to the point that she would barge in and help. She did so without any care, too, sometimes. Cheerful, caring, helpful—what wasn't there to like?

Our interactions were sparse, and our conversations ever short. But for what small number of experiences we shared, I had deluded myself into thinking that I was somehow head over heels for Orimoto just for the fact that she, well, interacted with me—resident weirdo and loner for our class. That, and she was a prime example of a Nice Girl.

And because I had such a rose-tinted pair of glasses back then, along with a very outdated version of the HCP, I had thought that her subspecies and classification was one of the more positive ones.

After hearing my father rant about it, I wasn't so sure anymore.

So, I took a page out of my dad's set of 108 Nanashi skills in order to see for myself just what the real Orimoto Kaori looked like; if her kindness was really just a front.

"Fufufu, it was fortuitous for you, my comrade, to ask me for aid! O, blessed thy be by the gods!"

For such a plan to work, though, I had to look for help.

"For what quest do you undertake that you would be in need of this one's dark power?!"

No, sorry, I meant a had to acquire a bloody bait for the shark.

"Could it be, the prophet has foreseen the bleak future, and so we must band together to prevent it?!"

My bad. I _needed_ a _sacrificial lamb_.

"But! Know that my services would require a hefty price!"

… I'm sorry Zaimokuza, but if even Jesus could forgive Judas, I hope you can look past this transgression. **[** **3** **]**

"Umu! Hachiman! I expect you to be the first to lay eyes upon my next masterpiece, and aid me in making it presentable enough to gods themselves!"

… You know what? I'll be the lamb. With the number of times I've used my fellow (loathe as I am to admit this fact!) _chuuni_ , I owe him more debts than I have fingers on my hands.

I sighed. It seems that the plan will have to change a bit. Go figure.

* * *

20 minutes later, and Aleister Crowley would be so proud of how everything went according to plan. **[4]**

"I like you. Would you please go out with me?"

I delivered the line as convincingly as possible—well, for someone of my character, anyways. I doubt anyone else in class has actually interacted with me long enough to recognize how I would speak, stand, and look when doing certain things.

Like doing a "confession," for instance.

The plan had been simple, really—find a way to get someone to spill their heart in front of Orimoto Kaori in order to show what kind of person she was. Of course, her reply to the confession itself was important, but dad taught me that what came after would speak volumes more than the reply.

—It was the aftermath that was worth addressing.

In history, certain experiences during the occurrence of life-changing moment would imply that it would impact the way an individual would react to a repeated or, at least, a related event. Of course, relations with the Germans would be very tense after World War II—with all that had happened, such as Hitler and the Holocaust, it's a wonder why it took a long time before the global society's suspicion gave way to trust once more for Germans in general.

What I needed to test with this staged confession was the knee-jerk reaction Orimoto would take _after_ I spill my guts. The rejection itself would not _completely_ reveal her character (though it will give me a hint of what lay behind the mask), but what she chooses to do _after_ would shed light upon the mystery that was her being a Nice Girl.

"… Eh? Hikigaya's… confessing? Really? Uh, um…"

The look of unease on her face did not mix well with the disgusted shock in her eyes.

I find myself wanting to burn every memory of actually dreaming about her eyes.

I find myself wanting to shred every memory of actually dreaming about her smile.

And I find myself wanting to have never met her in the first place.

But, all of these would have to take confirmation _after_ I finish this… farce.

"… Wouldn't being friends be better, Hikigaya? Ehehe… I mean, you know…"

As much as I had steeled myself by preparing for the worst possible scenario, rejection at the hands of the person I've come to view in a most positive light made me want to go crawl in a hole and rot. I can assure all of you, sitting at home and watching this, that the experience will be something you will carry to your grave—perhaps even the afterlife.

I released a breath, calming myself before replying. I couldn't even bring myself to look at her.

"I see. My bad. I hope this changes nothing between us." What the hell, was there even anything between us? Oh, yeah, there's five feet of classroom floor and three desks between us. That won't change, obviously.

I kid.

God, I want this to end. Badly. Zaimokuza, you better be having perfect shots with those video cameras!

"Err… right. Well, um, I better… go? Ehehehe."

It's fine Orimoto, you didn't have to disguise your sprint as a brisk walk. Your tone and way of conversation just screamed "OMFG I might die of embarrassment if I spend a second longer around you."

 _Sigh_.

* * *

"… Comrade, are you well? The witch has gone, and the memory of this day saved to the digital core you have lent me—the task is complete."

Zaimokuza. Don't look at me with such eyes. I might actually die of embarrassment. Again.

But then again, it was a sobering thought that I at least knew Zaimokuza wouldn't abandon me as easily as I did him a couple of times before.

"Yeah, it is complete. Thanks… comrade."

Huh. For a second there, Zaimokuza _almost_ looked cool (not).

A brief exchange of nods, and I was soon on the way home. There was nothing else left to do, but wait for tomorrow.

And the way my gut sunk like a rock did not bode well.

* * *

 **[1]** Ranks in League of Legends. If you play (like I do) and are a level 30 player getting a lot of flak for attempting provisional games as support main (like I am) because, apparently, no rank = n00bs#!t, then know that I totally feel for you. Truly.

 **[2]** Star Wars. May the Force be with you.

 **[3]** Bible, New Testament. Judas. Betrayal. Jesus captured after the Last Supper. 13 pieces of silver. 'Nuff said.

 **[4]** To Aru Majutsu no Index. Crowley just loves _keikaku doori_.

 **Hey again!**

 **After I'd uploaded the first chapter, my internet connection went to shit, and to spend the rest of my time I went and did this—the second chapter (apologies if it's shorter, but I wanted it like this, and it couldn't have turned any better than this!).**

 **Now, finally seeing the result of what I thought was a shot in the dark with a weird idea in my head, I am honestly _floored_ by the initial response. Very positive, too. I am thankful for the support as a newcomer, and I appreciate the feedback so far!**

 **Garovel:** Thanks! I hope to write as best as I can.

 **Sorashita Charyubi:** I plan to take the Monster's evolution in a different light. And the romance thing? It'll be happening a little more later. :D

 **lanceamida09:** Oooh, a fellow Filipino! Your support is inspiring! _Maraming salamat!_

 **Animeloverq8:** Oh, I don't know about being one of the best, but do know that I will give it my best! Thanks for the vote of confidence, though. Really.

 **diceWW:** HLYSHT. YOU REVIEWED. I mean, I've read your works and it wouldn't be a stretch to say _they've_ inspired me to write. Wow. I hope to do great just as you have! :D

 **Angel-sama:** Here it is, continued! You'll be seeing more of Nanashi later, too. Hehehehe.

 **ArmantusCumPinnae:** Nanashi will be passing down more than just the 108 Skills. Trust me. And though "nameless" is the meaning I'm going for the name, there's also a reference there for a number ( _nana_ = seven, in Japanese) as another similarity with 8man. :D

 **hslippery:** Well, men are men—whatever happens. I guess. Hahahaha. Thanks for the support, and I hope to you see around.

 **Leave a review, drop a line! See you guys for the next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

More often than not, ignorance is something that many willingly choose over truth.

These people, more than anyone else, are truly aware of just how painful the truth was—of how much change it was going to bring into their lives, how much it was going to affect their relationships with other people, how much it would rend apart piece by piece the everyday life they had learned to live with. And because they fear the sudden change so much, they would rather pull the wool over their eyes and pretend the problem wasn't there—pretend that everything is fine, that the Sun rises from the east, and sets in the west.

By willfully choosing ignorance, they dull the pain they know already existed. It lets them get through another day, deluded by the very lies fabricated in contradiction with the harsh reality they live in. But this choice, this continuous lying to one's self—it's not the cure to this cancerous patch on the arm that's spreading gradually yet is still ignored as if it didn't exist at all. Lying to convince yourself that everything is just the way it is is a band-aid solution to a terminal illness that worsens with each passing day.

All because the truth was something so hurtful.

To be honest, I myself have been part of this wool-pulling for so long. For this reason alone, I despised myself, for I was the biggest liar I have ever met. All because I didn't want to fully accept the gravity of the situation, I made excuses for the people I wanted to understand—people who conversely did not want to understand me. At all. Because no matter how much I wanted to understand them and become more aware of the small things that made up relationships, everyone else was convinced that I was someone not worth being spared any sort of positive relation.

I told myself that getting invited to a birthday party, being given the wrong location, and having my gift laughed at because it was handmade was just the childish pranks and teasing of elementary classmates.

I told myself that being excluded from extracurricular activities by teens my age was just them feeling awkward since I've never really interacted much with them.

I told myself that having my name not remembered at all was my fault for not having the guts to approach them and introduce myself.

I told myself that the reason why no one seemed so concerned about getting my contact number or mail was that these were studious people, who didn't have time for small talks on the phone when they were so engrossed in studying to get into nice high schools.

I kept telling myself these things; and in the end, the lies did nothing to soften the impact for when the truth finally hit me—for when I accepted it wholeheartedly, and without regret.

Yet when I did accept it, the pain changed. Just as volatile as the truth, the realizations we come to meet are just as fickle—pain was forgotten, and in its place stood disgust, anger, pity, and indifference.

Disgust because these idiots followed the rumors like cattle would their shepherd to the slaughter.

Anger because they so easily believed Lucifer's silver tongue, when he was no longer an angel **[1]**.

Pity because they lacked so much insight. So much compassion. So much _common sense_.

Indifference because they became strangers—not acquaintances, not even classmates.

* * *

The whole wool-pulling phenomenon had ended once I'd finally come to class, the day after the staged confession. Still, mere minutes before I finally faced the truth head on, I still clung on to the faint hope that perhaps Orimoto and the rest of the class weren't the kind of people my dad predicted they would be, that she and my classmates at least had the potential to be people worth putting a genuine effort into to at least be acquaintances with.

The moment I stepped into the room, the stares, the snickering, the sneers, and the laughter pressed onto me like a roaring wave. I spotted Orimoto and her clique over to the side, chuckling like yesterday's events and today's rumors were just some kind of joke that would blow over after a few days.

And yet it was no simple joke.

Staged and fake as it was, and though I had been acting like a cheap actor on a low-budget script, I had earnestly poured out whatever (misguided) affection I had for the girl.

I felt like I'd been hit with a truck driven by a speed demon when the realization came.

I was numb for the rest of the day. The hours felt like seconds. The rumors, the gloats, the insults, and the mocking sounded like whispers. I saw nothing else but the truth, and the images of these fakes seated all around me were replaced by white silhouettes of unimportant characters.

I've never felt so dumb in my entire life. Deluding myself, for the sake of these fakes? Tch. What a joke.

I didn't even realize when I'd gotten home. When I checked the watch, it was already _way_ past curfew. When I checked my phone, it glowed with more than a dozen text messages and missed call notifications from my mother and from Komachi.

The moment I opened that door, I'd been assaulted by the frantic Hikigaya matriarch, and I'd received the most aggressive dressing down of my life before I was tackled into a fierce hug, and told never to worry her like that again.

Komachi cried her eyes out on my shoulder, thinking that I was never coming back. I'm sorry little sister, I'm sure I lost a lot of points for that.

God, and I told myself that my family was so distant to the point they didn't worry this much. It made me feel worse—yet the genuine affection did make me feel a little better.

After I finally got to eating dinner (or what small amount of it I touched), dad had taken me aside for man-to-man talk.

* * *

"How bad was it?"

"… What do you think?"

Perhaps I should've held back on the snark there, but at the time I was feeling so frustrated with everything. It was as if nothing made sense anymore, and that even if I had stopped trying to lie to myself, nothing else felt right.

"That bad, huh. Was I right?"

I nodded briefly. "Go ahead and lord it over me as much as you want to."

Dad chuckled. "I'm not so petty and childish that I'd be dancing to the jig of 'you were wrong, and I was right'; it just doesn't work that way."

Silence pervades for the next few minutes, but no discomfort was present. In fact, it was calming me down and lessening my discomfort a little.

"For what it's worth, you _really were right_. After you made those conclusions just from watching her closely in that video, I wanted to reject what you said, to deny it, even if I didn't even say anything to you.

"And yet, here we are. I've come to see just how ugly the truth was, and just how ugly the reality is of having people like those as classmates. Assumptions without basis. Conjectures without proof. These people are far too shallow, and are colored only by the pretentiousness that they exude.

"If this is how society works in a smaller scale; if this is how people easily cut off those they think are beneath them, then how am I supposed to believe in making relationships?! How the hell can I believe in people if they—if _I—_ can so easily delude myself into thinking that willful ignorance of another is just a common thing to do when there's something wrong in sight?!"

I've had enough of trying to understand others. I've had enough of trying to have others understand.

"… I'm sick of all… this. Maybe it's better to live a life just like you have, dad. Maybe it's easier to shut everyone out, because in the end they get in the way and just screw everything up with ideals, with their greed, and with all their lies."

They lie to themselves for the sake of self-gratification. They project assumptions onto others for the sake of creating an imagined hierarchy that they use to define people on their own terms.

Understanding? Compassion? Sympathy? Don't give me that crap.

If there existed nothing but these mountains towering with falsifications, then perhaps solitude would be the best way for me to get through this screwed up world.

"Just because the world pushes you around doesn't mean you have to push back as hard." I turned to look at him, about to snap at what kind of cock and bull crap he was trying to pull—

But whatever I wanted to say died at my throat.

Dad looked at me—not with sadness, pity, disappointment, disgust; not like those who didn't want to understand—and in his eyes, I saw naught but regret.

"I've told you before, right? I don't want you ending up doing what I've done." A tired sigh escapes him, and his expression greets me this time with a lopsided smile. "Bear with me a moment—have I ever told you how I met your mother?"

Confusion marred my face before I end up pinching the bridge of my nose. "… Dad. I'm sort of having a moment here. Your sappy meeting with mom doesn't really sound like it'll help."

He gave a snort. "You damn well bet it will, Hachiman. Moment my ass…"

Language, please! Don't be such a dirty-mouthed model to your son!

"Anyway, because I'd become a recluse who wanted nothing with the world, I was basically a social retard during college. As such, I spent everything on academics and studying, and almost no time at all goofing off.

"I got good grades, well enough to warrant the attention of some parasites who were too fattened up by their own ego to try and make some efforts themselves. I brushed the fakes off, and soon enough I pretty much hated the majority of university students I came across.

"Then came your mother—met her when she was defending her thesis, I was the student next to go after her. A graduate student was filling out for one of the sick professors supposed to be seated as a panelist, and when the smug bitch attempted roundabout questionings to make the presentation look bad, your mother decked her with the meanest right cross I've seen, and proceeded to dress down the chick with the wittiest, iciest thesis defense delivery I've seen.

"What I wanna say, is that you shouldn't lose hope that easily. It may not mean much from a loner like me—I _still_ am one—but believe me when I say that you shouldn't think in such a fatalistic manner." He brings a hand on my shoulder, and somehow the gesture calms me down to think a little better on the problem.

"Having met your mom, I've come to desire one thing, and one thing alone from this world that, as you've said, is built atop a mountain of lies."

Hikigaya men, as far as I've heard, have always had dead eyes.

In my father's eyes, however, there was a spark that I have never thought would be there for someone like him—a maddening glint, burning away silently and was nigh impossible to miss.

"Your mother made me see that perhaps it isn't such a bad world if we can find genuine things. After meeting fakes for so long and recognizing people who are so concerned with impressions, it was so refreshing to finally meet someone who wasn't afraid to show people who she really was."

Genuine. Real. Not something made with deception, filled with lies, and surrounded by fakes.

Was such a thing attainable? Was it even as real as it sounded? Hearing it now, it sounded like some faraway notion that belonged only in children's fairy tales. The word felt weird on my tongue, and sounded foreign to my ears.

But there was something to it that just… pulled.

Was it okay to hope?

Was it okay to believe?

Is it something worth reaching out for?

"Hachiman."

I was broken out of my musings, and on his face was but a meaningful look.

"So that you won't come to regret things as much as I have, perhaps I can entrust the same dream to you."

My dismay with the world remained. It would never disappear. However, maybe it wasn't so bad to believe in such a thing—no matter how small the likelihood of it being attained was.

Then again, if my father—a loner at heart—was able to reach such a thing…

Huh. It might not be so bad.

"… That so? Well, won't stop me from turning down people, though."

"Like I've told you before: it's fine to read between the lines, but not too much. It's fine to take things at face value, but don't just believe everything. How else do you think I do so well in my job?"

The atmosphere had lightened dramatically, and we even shared a bout of laughter.

Dad may not be completely right, but he wasn't wrong either.

As much as it would have been easier for me to just push people away, doing so was just running away from my problems, and pretending that they didn't exist in the first place. Ignoring people who might actually be more beneficial than detrimental to be around with was just as bad, and claiming that everyone would just be out to get me, dress me down, and push me onto the dirt was unfair to people who would actually care.

In short, I would returning to the willful wool-pulling that I have so turned away from earlier; I would have turned away from lying to myself, just to come back and lie to myself all over again.

I would start detesting any change to my way of life, and would be content with deluding myself with my way of living.

This would simply not do.

Perhaps it's time to outgrow this pitiful, middle school self crafted by mine and others' insecurities.

"You know, for a supposed loner, your wisdom makes it sound like you know how things are going to unfold."

Dad shrugged. "I guess. Well, it just comes with the experience I've had, I guess. Besides," a mischievous glint made itself known on his face, "I might just be you from the future, who's traveled back in time to get rid of the possibility of my past creating a trashy transgression that screws up the future." **[2]**

This time, it was my turn to snort. "That's dumb. Besides, time travel isn't real."

"It might explain why we're so alike, though. Hehehe."

I can't believe I'm actually unnerved by this. "Seriously? Stop joking around."

His expression turned wicked, complete with synchronization from his Hikigaya eyes reaching a maddening crescendo.

"Go ask your mom—I can't tell a joke to save my hide."

I paled.

 _What the hell, old man?!  
_

* * *

 **[1]** Lucifer, once an angel, fell from grace because his pride blinded him from God's real intentions, when God had ask him and the other angels to love humanity as they (angels) loved Him. He took up arms, and revolted—for this, he was cast out of Heaven.

 **[2]** Fate Stay/Night. Archer, anyone? LOL.

 **I've rewritten this thrice, and this is the most content I was with the revision. Although I'm a bit unsure if I dealt with the father-son talk with the finesse needed… I dunno. Well, feedback would be appreciated on how I did. :D**

 **Since it's still the semestral break (at least in my uni), I've decided to keep writing as much before the return for next semester (November 7). Expect the updates to slow down to about once or twice a week by then, but right now I'll be doing my best to churn out as much as I can.**

 **PS. Nanashi was joking. There is _absolutely no time travel shit_ happening here. LOL.**

 **TheLegendary Icehole:** Thanks! I love the way you write, too! No homo, if you're a dude!

 **Sorashita Charyubi:** Zaimokuza just has that effect on people—but a comrade is a comrade, eh? And I ain't finished with Orimoto yet. Though, it'll be a while before she surfaces again.

 **ArmantusCumPinnae:** Yep, Sith through and through—the Dark Side has MAXX Coffee, so it's a great deal. Though Nanashi's 108 will be different from Hachiman's 108 techniques. ;)

 **Guest:** I hope you stick around for the ride!

 **TH1s:** Well, that _is_ the aim! Since events are happening differently from canon, expect that a different Hachiman will be the result—although he would still be retaining a lot of what made him the 8man we know and love. :D

 **Nignug:** Please look forward to it. :D

 **Guest #2:** Sure! Not stopping now!

 **Guest #3:** Thank you!

 **Chryshauzer:** Wait for a bit more, and Nanashi'll be in action. As we are now, we're just nearing the canon start, and that's where Nanashi will be a bit more hands on. :D

 **Leave a review, drop a line—I'll see you guys next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

The pursuit of love during the days of one's pubescence isn't as sweet-sounding as it is.

If I had to describe it, it would be full of disappointment, misfortune, and heartbreak. Sometimes, even a few cases of broken bones, especially for guys—who had _all sorts_ of bones. Romance, at this sort of age, is a mistake waiting to cripple your self-worth and plunge you into an endless cycle of hope and despair. Source: Me.

Let it be known that Hikigaya Nanashi never pursued such a thing during peak of his adolescent life.

But, as the gods of romantic comedies were as wicked as the many riajuus who littered the earth, such a situation was served to me on a grimy plate; and when I refused it vehemently, it was unceremoniously shoved down my throat. Bad did not even begin to describe its taste, and painful was an understatement to the discomfort it brought my stomach.

In any case, love would have to be 33% peer pressure, 33% delusion, 33% complications, and 1% hormones.

Peer pressure, at least the negative kind, would always be associated to the teenagers who ended up becoming early alcoholics, smokers, drug users, and gang members. The annoying insistence of the wrong sort of friends would suck up the submissive teen like a black hole, and then plunger him or her into a life full of regret. Conversely, a teenager who's been far too suppressed and controlled by his or her parents might start developing rebellious inclinations, and thus give in much more easily and readily agree with peer pressure.

Such a factor also plays a monumental part during high school. If just one of your friends assumes you like a girl for:

a) spending more time with her than is warranted;

b) giving her not-so-subtle looks, maybe from curiosity or such; or

c) being at the wrong place at the wrong time,

Then surely, you become the center of light teasing, which then evolves into a group effort of lumping you together with the said girl with a multicolored array of various jokes and innuendo. This collaborative effort makes you hyper aware of the girl, and may confuse you into believing that you _actually_ like her!

Which brings us then to delusion.

Once the "fact" sets in that you do "actually feel something for her," then you start thinking about the what-ifs and the multitude of possible scenarios you should envision if you were to have a shot with her. Needless to say, the passing thought becomes a forest deeply rooted into your brain, producing illusions of love 24/7 and driving you deeper into the darkness.

Finally—complications.

What else is there left to say? After your thoughts capture you like a deeply connected alien symbiote **[1]** , you finally become but a poor sap drawn into a poorly written script by the rom-com gods—a drama that consists of nothing but emotional crap after emotional crap, each far more complicated than before. Its a maelstrom of troubles, a clusterfuck of epic proportions with you in the middle.

Oh, and hormones? Way too obvious. No need to elaborate there.

In any case, I wasn't one of those fools who had succumbed to this unholy recipe for disaster—however, it was my misfortune that the rom-com gods did not look upon me so graciously, and as such, I had to dance to the piper's tune.

Regardless of what had happened, the pursuit of a _genuine_ relationship, one of true love and understanding (I'm a closet romantic; sue me), would not occur until I went to university.

And even then, the rom-com gods hounded me there.

 _Sigh._

Such is the curse upon the males of the Hikigaya family. It must be some kind of running gag among the rom-com gods.

* * *

"Nana-chan."

As gay as my pet name sounded, not once did I ever complain to my wife. It was something she had come up with through painstaking effort, of course. Why, if I _did_ complain, I'd be subjected to an Astral Finish **[2]** and mutilated ever so gloriously!

"Yes, dear?"

My 7shi senses are tingling! **[3]** Hikari's tone of voice… I recognized it. It was one of the many weapons women—women in a relationship, especially!—had in order to turn their spouses into cooperative goops and have them be enslaved for the sake of menial tasks that they consider to be just below them.

"We're a bit low on stock. Please do the groceries."

Even if she was my lovely angel Hikari-tan **[4]** , I refuse to be controlled by such a weapon for such an unmanly task! I am the man of the house! I am Hikigaya Nanashi! Who the hell do you think I am?! **[5]**

"… I'm sorry, dear. I remembered that I had something to do. Why not have Hachiman do it?"

She raised a brow at me. Her bullshit detector must be at max—along with my flight-or-fight meter.

"Oh? It's such a convenient time for your work to just come up like that."

Cold sweat was already pooling on my back. "C-Convenient? Nothing of the sort, I assure you."

I could already see the ice crystallizing behind her eyes, accompanied by the a sudden drop in temperature in the kitchen.

The situation… it's turned quite bad, hasn't it?

What made it worse was that the kitchen in this household was practically this woman's domain. Despite not having much time to be here due to the constraints of work, Hikari's manipulation of this dimension was akin to that of a god's. Her grasp of every ingredient and kitchenware, their history and use, was on par (or perhaps, even surpasses) easily with the masters of the kitchen's craft.

—Unlimited Kitchen Works. **[6]** A formidable Reality Marble indeed.

The only defense I possess was a A++ Rank Riajuu Resistance, and it had no use whatsoever against my wife's tremendous skills. Such was the strength of Type-Hikari.

 _Sigh_. I'm reminded once more that I married something far, _far_ worse than an Avenger. **[7]**

I froze on my seat, drawn to the sight of my wife taking slow and measured steps to me, glasses lit up by reflected light. Every single fiber of my being screamed "DEAD END" if I didn't choose the proper response to the next option.

Well, if there _was_ a next option to the dialogue.

"Nana-chan."

"Y-Yes?!" An unmanly squeak was elicited out of me, much to my displeasure—but the current fear was far outweighing whatever mental faculties I had.

Just as I thought I was about to finally follow Hitler and Stalin into the fiery pits of Hell and forever be damned, my wife threatens me into action through a less violent way of submission:

Hikari _straddles_ me.

Her arms wrap around my neck, and her head tilts to the side so that her lips are located near my ears.

As seductive as it looked from a different angle, and as much as my manly instincts screamed "JACKPOT!", this wasn't as right as it seemed:

Her arms were coiling around me like pythons.

The warmth of her breath felt like a brush with Death.

And for the knockout blow? She whispers to me:

"Well… I thought I could've _rewarded_ you later for… being such a model _father_ for Hachi, y'know? I think I'll have to _rescind_ that idea if, well… you'll be _busy_ doing work."

Good lord.

 _Good lord_.

This woman… just knew where to push my buttons. It wasn't fair, dammit!

"… I'm sorry."

Her fingertips trailed circles on my back. Ever. So. _Slowly_.

"I-I actually don't have work. None. At all." A soft giggle tickled my ears.

"Please let me do the groceries." She pulled away from my side, faced me, and gave me a smile that short-circuited my brain.

I'm sorry, Pride and Sloth. Please sink back to the depths of my mind as Lust is given free reign.

* * *

Contrary to the fact that I was a loner, I actually dated a couple of girls back in college.

Of course, as a carrier of the prestigious Hikigaya genes, I was blessed with above average height and devilish features that would surely ensnare any woman I wished ensnared—well, that was if they weren't fakes, of course.

Only Genuine Women who did not assume from first impressions and did not push expectations upon people were worthy to the Hikigaya name; as such, the process of sifting through the many women I have encountered was made easier for the fact that only Genuine Women could truly see what lay behind the Hikigaya Mystic Eyes (Rank EX). Surely, being able to attract the right one would be easy since they're now all filtered, right?

Wrong!

Society was composed of 99% normalfags, which meant that the phenomenon of widespread riajuu ruin was commonplace in every nook and cranny of the world. This blasted event is the reason why we of the fortunate 1% are left marginalized and ostracized; misunderstood and feared.

Relating back to my point, it is because of such a large percentage that it is definitely harder to find Genuine Women in society—let alone in a single university. What made it harder was that there existed Genuine Women who were disguised as riajuus, and were succumbing into the transformation of becoming one as well.

But, perhaps, the rom-com gods _finally_ had some trace amount of mercy to actually throw me a bone and actually get me into three relationships—two failed ones, and the third resulting to a marriage and an eventual family.

Of course, back during the time the first two _did_ occur, the rom-com gods made it sure that I received the message that they weren't making it any easier on me—in fact, these relationships were graciously provided for the reason that I was to _suffer_ a lot more.

The women I dated before Hikari weren't actually _that bad—_ but that didn't mean they were _that good_ , either.

If I had to describe them, though, perhaps it would be, in anime and manga terms, yan—

"Ara, is that you, Hikki?"

My heart nearly gave out when I heard a familiar voice. A _very_ familiar voice. And so, the rest of my body went into overdrive and poured all the remaining mana into my most useful skill.

 _Hiki-Stealth on max. Retreating. Do not make eye contact. Proceed to escape to the frozen goods selection._

"It _is_ you!"

 _Hiki-Stealth compromised._ _Escape failed._

Reluctant as I was, I turned and faced the woman who had called out to me.

Damn you, rom-com gods! A married man shouldn't be punished like some shitty teenager deluded by hormonal romance!

"Fufu, it's been a while, hasn't it?" It _has_ been a while, but her gorgeous looks haven't changed at all. In fact, doesn't it look like she got prettier?! What the hell?!

That kind of voice was something I wouldn't forget so easily—nor was her peach hair, her… bountiful assets, nor her cheerful demeanor. This woman, who would be the perfect example of a tier ?: Nice Girl, was one of the select few who I had come to know as without any kind of deceit upon their person whatsoever.

Genuine, to say the least.

But don't let the Nice Girl qualities fool you! The real form of this woman was selfish to the core, and was capable of going to great lengths to obtain what she wanted.

Source: Me.

I could say this with confidence because… I dated her before. Say hello to my first girlfriend.

"Yahallo, Hikki!"

"G-Good afternoon… Yuigahama-san."

* * *

 **[1]** Spider Man. Spidey went dark for a bit with his stint with the black symbiote, which he got rid of soon and resulted in the creation of the villain Venom.

 **[2]** BlazBlue. Astral Finishes can be performed when you've got a victory chance, and the enemy HP is at least 30%. Astral Finishes vary per character.

 **[3]** Spider Man. If you _seriously_ don't recognize this, I will hunt you down and feed you to Zaimokuza.

 **[4]** My Little Sister Can't be this Cute! Kyousuke's way of addressing Ayase at times.

 **[5]** Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. The series that pierces the heavens!

 **[6] & [7]** Fate-verse. UKW is, as I understand, a running gag online about the sheer number of kitchen scenes in the Heaven's Feel route. Avenger is the supposed class that the Einzberns wanted to pull out on everyone during the 3rd Holy Grail War, but the process botched everything up and FUBAR'd the next Wars.

 **Soooooo… I just dropped a bomb. Hehehe. Don'tkillmeplease.**

 **What prompted me to do this was a bout of inspiration from _Bakuman_. I just found it really funny and entertaining when the notion of the parents / adult characters pretty much knew one another!**

 **As per what this story is headed for, it's pretty much AU at this point—especially with all the liberties I've been taking. However, that doesn't mean I'd be ignoring canon altogether. I still intend to make use of the elements present in canon, and meld it with this (crazy) AU.**

 **For the genre, well, I know it doesn't feel all that OreGaIru-ish. Why is that? For the long time that I've been reading fan fiction, and through my immersion especially in OreGaIru, I've found myself wanting to just pen down a sort of brighter, comical, yet still engaging and rich narrative of OreGaIru. Not that I dislike the heavy drama and emotionally driven plot points of canon (I love it so much I might as well marry it!), but it's just that my vanillafag tendencies are pushing me to giving these characters a break from the weight they're given in canon. I mean, fan fiction, right? It's a chance to discover all these possibilities—what if it was like this, what if that was so, etc.**

 **Long story short, I've come to spread my vanillafag virus—kidding!**

 **Long story short, I've come to deliver a rom-com story filled with hijinks! If you're a more serious reader geared to the more emotional elements of OreGaIru, I'd like to share with you now that though those would still be present here in the long run, they won't probably be as heavy as those in the series or as those in other fan fictions, for that matter. Sorry if I disappoint anyone, but, yeah. It's what I wanna do with this.**

 **Enough of that rant!**

 **diceWW:** And you've got a fan in me too! Thanks for the wonderful feedback!

 **lanceamida09:** I'm glad you like my style of writing. :D This is also an experiment on how much I can do with a character so rarely touched upon (though he is a product of an OC creation and a canon, undiscussed character).

 **Sorashita Charyubi:** His mom won't be just pure ice, though. You'll see. :D

 **ArmantusCumPinnae:** I hope you like what I have in store for future relations!

 **Animeloverq8:** We'll see more of it soon. Hehehehe.

 **Nignug:** Glad you like it, sir or madam!

 **Slothful:** Glad I didn't disappoint. Hope you stay around for the ride!

 **Chryshauzer:** It stands to reason that if 8man is awesome, then why not make 8dad as badass? :D

 **TheLaughingStalk Lenny-Kun:** Right back atcha!

 **SoreLoser:** Thanks for the elaborate review, man! I appreciate it! Yeah, maybe I should have clarified it earlier that the story _is_ AU, especially for people who were expecting something more in line with the plot in canon. But I hope you stay around long enough for when things get interesting enough!

 **Mono:** Glad I was able to deliver. Thanks for taking the time to read. :D

 **jemuel23euel:** Here's more. :D

 **Leave a review, drop a line! See you next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**[Nanashi]**

Sometimes, the past is just best left forgotten.

Not everyone can be said as possessing the same kind of emotional strength needed in order to confront the demons that continue to haunt us until this very day. Not everyone can be said as possessing the same number of people ready to help them at a moment's notice.

It is because of even the smallest of these discrepancies that every individual has his or her own way of dealing with the troubles brought by unfortunates events prior to the present. Some cope up through meaningful talks with people involved with the problem or are at least knowledgeable of it, others may just choose to face their troubles head on and accept the world as it is. Rare are the kind who belong to the latter, because not everyone sees the world as it is, and because there exist more people who like to lie to themselves than believe the truth.

Despite having come to terms with reality, I can't really say I've developed any kind of foolproof way to get through the horrors (exaggeration alert!) of my past. Granted, there have been times I chose to run away because I was a spineless idiot—however, a lot has changed, and perhaps I am more grateful now more than ever that I changed for the better, including the methods I employ to confront my demons.

But as I've said, there are just some things worth forgetting. Things that don't need to be remembered, not because they teach nothing, but because the mistake done just ended up becoming a full-blown catastrophe that shreds the very fabric of existence. However, since the rom-com gods like to mess with the males of the Hikigaya name, forgetting is such a futile effort in and of itself.

Long story short: for someone like me, the very act of forgetting? In the end, it doesn't even matter. **[1** **]**

Why doesn't it matter? Because my past continues to hound me to the present.

"How have you been?"

Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I present Exhibit A.

Her smile is disarming, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Even as I tried to put my guards up, I can't help but relax around her sincerity. After all, she still seems like as she has always been to me—an open book.

I sighed. There wasn't really any use running away or trying to detest her—who was I kidding? Yuigahama was a Nice Girl for the sake of being genuinely nice, and that was something I could get behind on.

 _Hikari-tan, please don't kill me._

"As well as I could be." She takes a moment to assess my looks, perhaps trying to see if I was being truthful about my health. A nod confirms her agreement to my rather curt answer.

"Fufu. Seems that you are. You never did like lying to me, Hikki!" I can't help but smile a bit at her smug expression.

"Of course I'm fine. Hikari's been taking care of me after all."

"… So she has."

The temperature felt… a little colder. This was bad—I now had one foot into the minefield. I have to tread lightly in the conversation. Obviously, Hikari was still a sore spot for her after all these years, and I can't help but feel guilty all over again for having rejected the feelings she had.

 _Safe question, safe question… Ah!_

"H-How's your daughter, by the way?"

Yuigahama brightens up from the question. Score! That was so totally high in Nanashi points! "Yui-chan's been a lively ball of fluff! Well, she might not be the brightest bulb in the store, but she's definitely got spirit! And sass! Fufu!"

… Yuigahama-san, I may not be the perfect basis for saying what good parenting is, but casually insulting your child like that isn't great you know? Even if you follow up with her redeeming qualities, it still comes off as something done in bad taste, you know?

But then again, this is a great opportunity for… "Oh? So you're saying she's just like her mother?"

Yuigahama tilted her head in confusion, and soon enough pouts in protest to what I was insinuating. "Geez~! We Yuigahamas more than make up for brains with our looks, you know?!"

I totally understand, Yuigahama-san. It seems that what you lost in IQ was more than made up for by… other parts of your… ahem, _anatomy_.

Wait, did this mean her daughter was just as stacked as she is?! Or her mother, for that instance?! How about her sister, if she had one?!

… Urgh, bad Nanashi. I really, _really_ shouldn't go there.

"… Hikki, you haven't changed at all. Your sense of humor's still twisted, and the way you're staring at me is still as gross as back in college. Did your eyes get worse or something?"

"Well, I'm sorry! We Hikigayas more than make up for our bad habits with our dastardly good looks!" Apologize to my ancestors, right now, Yuigahama-san. We have endured our suffering under the rom-com gods for far too long now, so no need to add insult to injury! And stop laughing!

With the atmosphere this relaxed, her giggling became infectious and finally both of us found ourselves laughing. Perhaps… it was quite unfair of me to just judge her as part of my unsavory past all because she had become part of something I would rather not keep remembering.

And because I knew that she, too, had her own set of rough circumstances, I had to cut her some slack from her troubles and still try to be a good fr—acquaintance, even if some things about us have changed.

Whether it was for better or for worse, I wouldn't know for sure.

"Are you still taking care of your daughter alone?" The light in her eyes dimmed for moment, and so did the bright exterior she normally exuded.

 _Guh, strike two for another bad question. Landmine triggered. Doom imminent._

"You don't have to answ—"

"I'm getting by. Well, even if I'm alone, at least she has all the love she can get, right? Besides, if that man were still around… if it wasn't for Hikki helping out… I…"

The thought of her ex-husband always left something boiling deep within me.

At first, when I'd heard that she got married with a well-off man, and was genuinely in a romantic relationship, I was extremely relieved—not because I had one less crazy ex-girlfriend to worry about, but because she finally had someone better than me who could give her a chance in happiness. Though we've never been able to get that chance for closure, I was satisfied with the fact that she'd been able to move on.

And then life threw her a curve ball.

Her former husband, turning out to be one of the employees in the company I worked in, had turned out to be involved in an embezzlement issue in the financial department. He was in a position where he had an advantageous placement in the office, but what had eventually given him away was that he got sloppier and sloppier in keeping his tracks hidden. Pride was really a downfall.

Once I had discovered his identity and pulled out all—and I do mean _all—_ existing records pertaining to him, the devil overcame me and I relentlessly poured all of my efforts into getting rid of the damn _bug_.

The _bug_ loved to drink and gamble.

The _bug_ had a history of similar crimes to three separate companies, with which he had expertly avoided.

I quashed the pest by getting him to prison, and had gotten him a long prison sentence stemming from multiple violations of law, along with all of his history; hell, I even got him setup as the cellmate for all the other people I had sent to prison for getting involved with him.

Even all those thugs involved with him were just collateral. What mattered was that I had _completely and utterly destroyed him_. If he were still alive by the time his release was due, he had absolutely no life to return to, nor rebuild. I took the liberty of providing him the courtesy.

I had no right interfering with Yuigahama-san's family, but even if we had parted on not-so-good terms, I admit that some things just don't change. Perhaps Hikigaya men were protective like that.

Even if she never got to know who had gotten rid of a potential time-bomb waiting to destroy the family she's built, I would be safe in the fact that she at least had a good head on her shoulders, and the will to continue on for the people she loves.

Well, in the end, she did find out that I had been the one to get rid of the wolf living with her and her daughter, and without so much as a second to spend needing to hear her gratitude, I again left her to fend for herself, standing only to pick up the broken pieces of a dream—a dream to have a family to love and care for, for the rest of her life.

Just like when I left her to pick up the pieces of a love she thought so true, one that I had shattered because of my… actions.

But, as it turns out, she never saw it that way. All she saw, again, was the man who she had fallen for being the man she really thought he was.

That incident was the last I thought I would ever see her again.

Since then, three years have passed.

And here we were.

"… Now that I think about, I never really got to thank Hikki for it."

The moment I saw her, I knew it would somehow come to this. Perhaps I was just dodging the issue, but being thanked was just an uncomfortable experience for me altogether.

 _Sigh_.

"You have nothing to thank me for. I was just cleaning up the company closet, is all. Coincidence was all that it was when we discovered he was your husband… well, at the time."

"Ara, modesty is not you, you know?"

Her mood was now better—all smiles, and all Yuigahama-y once more. Clearly, she was one of those women who simply looked better smiling, and bounced back from bad situations with twice as much vigor.

"Ufu, you flatter me Hikki!"

Geh. Did I say that aloud?!

"You did, silly!"

Geh. Habits.

"… Ah, that's enough of that. Well, we still have our own groceries to finish, so I guess this where we part ways?" That's right idiot—run. Run while you can. Run while Hikari-tan can't smell the blood.

"Oh, that's right. And I have to make lots for dinner too—Yui-chan has a guest this afternoon, and I'd almost forgotten about it!"

 _Talk about airheaded—oh, wait. It's Yuigahama we're talking about. As if it wasn't obvious._

"… Hikki definitely has no filter on his mouth as usual, huh."

Geh! Mouth, stop! Cooperate with me, please!

"Oh, that reminds me, Hikki! Phone number~!" She holds out her smartphone, clearly asking for my contact.

I shrugged. Well, why the hell not? What's an exchange of contact between two ol' acquaintances? I took my phone out of my pocket, and quickly gave her my number.

… But why was I getting a bad feeling about this?

"Fufu, Hikki's phone number, get! You've always been paranoid about who you got your contact number."

That's because I didn't really like the fact that people I don't care about obtained some means to reach me for some menial undertaking I had no reason to be part of.

"Hikki."

Before I knew it, Yuigahama-san had closed the distance between us and gave me a peck on the cheek. And thus I had done a perfect impression of a tomato: red to the core, and brainless as most plants are wont to be.

"Thank you for looking out for me, even after all this time."

Her smile then was wistful, and there was a pained longing in her eyes that I couldn't hope to look at for long. It was obvious, far too obvious, that I was wrong in thinking that she had already moved forward when it came to me.

I said nothing in reply, because there was nothing I could say back without making the situation a whole lot worse—well, for me that is.

"Just know that if _your wife_ messes up…"

The expression she made then sapped me of strength and struck fear into my heart—it was that of an unholy beast, hidden behind the facade of gentle beauty and caring eyes. It was a serpent poised to strike at a moment's notice when the other predator would show weakness, and then come out victorious in obtaining the mutual prey.

And none could miss the venom that came when she'd said "your wife"—I certainly didn't.

"I'll be taking _**you**_ all for _**myself**_ , okay~? Bye bye!"

As she walked away, seemingly with a skip to her step and newfound vigor, I was left rooted to the spot, holding a crop of carrot as if it were some holy artifact to keep me protected.

This—this was the reminder I needed to assure my thoughts that it was _not_ such a good idea to be around her when she had _tendencies_ like this.

The last time I saw Yuigahama Yuno make that face was back in college, three months after our breakup when I was then dating Yukinoshita Yukari.

The "Frigid Bitch," as Yuigahama liked to call her. Just remembering it made me feel 10 degrees colder.

Thus, once done with the groceries, I beat a hasty retreat to my lair, lest the rom-com gods rain down upon me divine misfortune once more.

* * *

 **[Hachiman]**

"That's it for today. I hope you all do your best for the upcoming tests!"

Cram school was a small hub of socialization, despite being primarily a place to obtain power-ups for your Intelligence stat. It was a place where students of varying schools gathered for an academic reason, and served to remind these adolescents that other schools were not just some figment of their imagination, nor some poorly concocted fairy tale. Of course, though interactions are limited, there are a select few who do make an effort to socialize.

Of course, my riajuu detectors had been off the charts ever since I went to the academic center, but the ones with the actual balls to just march up and practically demand friendship from random strangers were just triggering me in the wrong ways.

It didn't help that these were girls of the _Homo orimoto_ classification.

It didn't help that females consisted about 80% of our block.

It didn't help that they kept coming back to the same blonde bastard seated right in front of me.

And it _really_ didn't help that the bastard just reeked of riajuu, as if the practice of being one was ingrained into the very strands of DNA! Just thinking about it made me want to hurl. If I were Zaimokuza (who I'm very much glad I'm not), at this point I might actually run up to the bastard reveal him for who he was:

 _Mine sworn enemy! How Fate must wish to toy with you so, for here you are brought to me, your most feared rival! Muhahahahaha! Cower and tremble before my might! Let my perfect mien, my regal countenance, and my glorious power be all that you remember in death!_

 _For I! Am! Hachiman!_

Fun fact: there was no way in hell that I would be caught dead spouting such nonsense. Ever.

It's only been my third day attending cram school, well away from the toxic community of my middle school. Perhaps the revelation of Orimoto's and my classmates' true colors was the kick I needed to bring me to the harsh reality that I was seen as only someone beneath them, and that my existence served only to fertilize their meager ones.

Well, too bad—this fertilizer was about to turn particularly venomous.

Before, I would've stubbornly kept with the principle that "to work is to lose." The mantra was supposed to be something I alluded to the corporate slavery rampant in today's era, yet it somehow wormed into my own habits that I had gradually forgone even the slightest of studying habitually, especially in the sciences.

Now that I was beginning to see the light, I had to agree with my father on yet another thing—it would simply not do.

True, perhaps even if my substandard performance in other areas barring humanities were balanced by stellar grades in the latter, that was simply a loser's way of honing one skill for life, and being a one-trick pony did not serve well to grant any sort of fallback once the dreaded future of adulthood comes knocking on your door.

Aside from that, I had to accept the fact that even if I possessed a mature wisdom not fitting of my age coupled with the quintessential common sense, it was not enough to get me through the harsh reality that I now acknowledge.

In short, I had persuaded myself that the merits of a more meaningful academic track would serve to be practical and significant in an investment for the future. Sure, my dad skimped on topics that greatly disinterested him, but the marks he got were (unbelievably) still above the threshold for above average.

Plus, it was dawning on me that the best kind revenge on those pathetic parasites who wasted the space in my classroom would be show them that I was no mere weed—that even if I was alone, I alone possessed more potential than any of them.

Far _more_ potential.

 _Have the riajuu bastards feel what it's like to be beneath_.

Dad said that it was the underlying principle in the way he worked: undermine their preconceived notions, bluff them into reacting, harshly peel their eyes open to the truth, and subject them to the feeling of being weaker than the one they assumed to be weak. Let them stew in the irony and mistake that was their own doing.

The method was relentless. Socially unacceptable. Despicable to its very core. Foul and bitter-tasting. And yet, in the number of years dad stuck with it, it was frighteningly effective in allowing him to see past the deceit of the pretentious and accepting only the most capable of people worth working and interacting with to be in the same space as him.

As such, a plan had begun to take shape in my mind on how to search for the one thing left for me to ever desire.

Leave their eyes with the visage of an ideal that would warp their view with a deluded image of a teenager who was as bleak as the white walls of a classroom.

Fade into the background, and watch them deceive each other—watch for weaknesses, remember cracks in their masks.

Work behind the scenes, and undermine the social structure from which they think they stand so high on.

Then show them the monster spawned forth through logic, through principle, through _reality_. Only then would those with the needed understanding eventually see through all the fakes, and then face the monster—

Face the monster, and then understand it—because only they would be able to see that all this time, only the monster had remained to be a monster, true to himself and true to those who are the same as he.

And then the tables would turn, and the fakes would become monsters of their own doing—far worse than the monster of logic.

* * *

"If you fail to plan, you plan to fail."

It's basically one of those sayings attributed to the importance of preparation in tasks one would undertake—in essence, you doom yourself by being unable to plan ahead for whatever was to happen.

However, it is important to note that plans must be made to suit the situation and must also to take into consideration the multitudes of unknown factors to be faced once the execution has come. Another tidbit of information to take to mind was that no plan essentially survived first contact, and thus contingencies always had to be kept.

In any case, the task I had given myself for the foreseeable future needed some sort of test run for me check the plausibility of even executing it. I wasn't my father, so whatever machinations I would expect from myself would be middling work compared to his.

If I wanted some sort of base case just to see if people really aren't as fake as I thought they were, I practically needed a normalfag as a test subject. If such a person's interactions with someone like me lasted long enough so I can bring them to see the idiocy of the riajuu religion and all that follows after it, then perhaps that which I desire may not seem as difficult to reach as before.

But if it goes badly… Well, that doesn't necessitate I fold, but would serve to remind me that everything else from here on out was going be far more treacherous.

Worse case scenario, I'd have to be genuine all my life with Zaimokuza.

… Barf.

Anyways, while on the hunt for my next guinea pig, I had actually struck gold and found a somewhat suitable candidate that would make the genesis of this crusade against the fakes all that easier.

Though, the candidate being a female would make the genesis of this crusade all that harder.

I had nothing against women at this point, but the fact that Nice Girls existed and that I've been seeing a lot more of the lesser known _Homo orimoto_ variety had me on edge. It was bordering on unhealthy paranoia, but there are some things you just can't forget—trauma and all that, you know.

Anyway, perhaps it was fortuitous that my quest in finding a much-needed experimental acquaintance was answered while I was on the mere sidequest to obtain the nectar of the gods: MAXX Coffee.

I had only just purchased my drink and sat down by near bench, only to have the peace ruined by the sounds of argument near the drink machine I bought from. A blonde girl and a peach-haired girl, from the looks of it, were having quite the heated discussion about the blonde bastard seated in front of me during cram sessions.

"You were looking at him, weren't you?!"

How did I know it was bastard? Duh, I know his name of course. Though, to be honest, something about his name just made me feel this… strong dislike of him, as if it were only natural to do so.

"B-But I told you, _I wasn't_!"

"Then why did you keep sneaking glances over his direction, Yui? And don't deny it! I saw you, alright! So fess up!"

Who did that blonde think she was, anyway? Was she the trashy vassal that came with the bastard riajuu protagonist? Was she his keeper?

Obviously, blonde Gurren Lagann had it bad for the pretty boy seated in front of me. She wasn't subtle about it, anyway—she was always there to scare away the other slu—girls and then cart off to who-knew-where with the bastard for lunch. And for going home. This was just a whole knew level of _subtle._

Before I knew it, the peach-haired one had been left alone standing upset and in apparent distress over by the machine. Yes, that's it. Let the hate flow through you. **[2]** I know you're looking to be friends with her, but with her assuming you have a thing for the riajuu bastard? Your shallow acquaintanceship looked ready to sink from just a single iceberg crash. **[3]**

Eventually, she had noticed my staring, looked startled, looked disgusted, feigned ignorance, got uncomfortable, then left—all in that exact order. Really now, don't be so judgmental!

Now, all that was needed was to draw the little fish in once more, then lure her to the bait.

A sneer graced my lips. I knew exactly how to handle this one. If my deductions are correct, she'll becoming back soon enough.

 _I can't wait!_

* * *

 **[1]** **Linkin Park. I tried so hard, and got so faaaaaaaar~**

 **[2] Star Wars. The Sith is recruiting. They have pizza!**

 **[3] Titanic. You know what happened, right? I hope you do. Or _else_.**

 **Wow, I actually managed a longer chapter. Look at that.**

 **So now that I'm getting the hang of things, updates are looking to be more of a 3k-5k word range, although there may be times I might exceed the word count on some chapters. But now that I'm getting the hang of this moreso than earlier, I guess it's just a matter of experience. :D**

 **The chapter would've been released earlier, but weather complications here have turned the house into a sopping mess thanks to roof leaks (uuuugghhh). So, yeah. Priorities. RL sucks balls when it's out to get you.**

 **Also, a shoutout to Hslippery for that review. Perhaps the reason why the philosophical aspects I'm integrating and discussing in the fic speaks like so to you guys is that I am, in fact, a loner to a certain degree. :D**

 **Well, perhaps the best way to say that is that I'm quite the ambivalent person in real life—I know the ways a loner's mind works because I've been there (and am still there) and have experienced various circumstances stemming from what loner-ism entailed. Being ostracized, abandoned, becoming the center of unwanted attention; in real life, whether in OreGaIru or in real life, it's just not sunshine and daisies. Then again, another half of me is a flat-out riajuu bastard, so I've got the bases covered out for that as well. LOL**

 **In summary, I'm a loner whose Noble Phantasm is making use of riajuu tactics to turn riajuu bastards away from me.**

 **Oh, and because BentShuriken was curious:**

 **[Ages for during the canon timeline of OreGaIru in Schrödinger-verse]**

 _ **Hikigaya Nanashi: 39**_

 _ **Hikigaya Hikari: 38 (8dad went kouhai route, FTW)**_

 _ **Yuigahama Yuno: 39**_

 _ **Hiratsuka Shizuka: 27**_

 **Note that it says for "during the canon timeline." This is a list of the ages by the time high school comes around for the main cast. Hehehehe.**

 **As usual, thanks for the feedback guys. You rock. :D**

 **Sorashita Charyubi:** 8mom is fire and ice. She burns like an inferno, and freezes like the Antarctic. Very, very dangerous indeed.

 **Hslippery:** Nanashi will be a very important factor later on when the high school arc finally kicks in. :D

 **ArmantusCumPinnae:** It's a very scary idea to have… 8mom and 8dad, secretly Yukino and Hachiman from the future—traveling back in time and having Komachi and 8man as their kids! This actually might be worth writing a fanfic about…

 **Guest:** Many thanks, dear sir or madam!

 **Paodan17:** Thanks! I couldn't agree more!

 **tH1s:** Don't worry, as far as the future arcs are, I've got them lined up in neat ideas constantly being expounded and elaborated into more details. And thanks a lot for the feedback and the advice! I appreciate being given directions to the right way, being a newbie writer and all. :D

 **Animeloverq8:** And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

 **TheLaughingStalk Lenny-kun:** This was one of my milder ideas—trust me. What I dropped in this chapter about his other ex-girlfriend and just what his ex-girlfriends are capable of… that's a whole new level of scary. LOL

 **BentShuriken:** I know, right?! I totally get you! Although, to be honest, I only realized that after reading your review, and it really _does_ look that way! And kudos to getting Yukinoshita as ex-girlfriend #2. That's gonna be elaborated a little more later.

 **Nignug:** Here's another update for you. ;)

 **Risuna23:** Oh, don't worry. 8Dad ain't about to die yet. :)

 **jemuel23eueul:** Definitely FTW :D Wait till the other ex-girlfriend appears! *insert maniacal laughter*

 **Leave a review, drop a line—I'll see you guys next chapter!**


	6. Chapter 6

**[Yui]**

After that spat with Yumiko, I was totes embarrassed when I saw him.

I mean, c'mon! I had fought with my friend in front of some uncool looking guy! Well, bad enough that someone saw us (no matter how simple the fight might have been), but it just had to be _**him**_ of all people!

Ugh.

The first time I'd seen him in cram school (Soubu's all prestige and stuff, so that meant I really had to prepare for the entrance test!), I swore that I must've done like a dozen double takes. Dead fish eyes, messy hair, all slouchy and gloomy—he was the spitting image of the man in the photograph Mama had in her room. I mean, I've seen the picture ever since I was really young, so how was I going to take the fact that some guy who was the spitting image of Mama's ex-boyfriend (in college) just walks into the same room I was assigned to?

Mama had chosen to tell me all about Hikigaya-san (her "Darling," as she would affectionately call him) the first and last day I had ever seen him in person—the day he had finally taken that _**deadbeat blood father**_ of mine out of our house, and our lives. Young as I was, he looked like some shifty-eyed guy who was out to trick Mama into doing something bad, and that had been my first impression. What surprised me during that time was how Mama was getting all flustered and red around him, like she wanted to melt into puddle then and there.

She told me how she used to date Hikigaya-san in college, and how she had been at her happiest back then. Mama didn't really tell me how they broke up, saying it was just a really complicated time, but the face she made while she said so was both worrying and really scary. After that, she told me that he was and always would be a good friend to her, and that one of these days she'd want to meet Hikigaya-san's son.

Who would've thought I'd have the prime opportunity to meet him myself?

As much as he looked like his dad (he looked just as shifty; was it the eyes?), he wasn't as lax as his disposition during breaks. When the tutorials were in session, his drive and focus were reaching levels of scary—as if he were one of those kids who were no prodigies, but would make do with sheer amounts of effort. Though students like him were no stranger to me, there was something about him that screamed all too different to me. I didn't know exactly what it was, but, maybe it's something my intuition could catch on to?

Well, that's basically what brought me to difficult place with Yumiko.

It was given that she was really interested and totes crushing on Hayama-kun, and as her friend I decided that I'd do my best to support her, while I tackled the mystery that was Hikigaya… kun. What didn't help, however, was the fact that Hikigaya-kun was seated all the way back, and Hayama-kun right in front of him. And Yumiko totally got the wrong idea whenever I would look behind me to sneak a glance at Hikigaya-kun, thinking that I was trying to sneak looks at the guy she was crushing on.

It was an honestly simple, yet dumb, misunderstanding. At this point, it would be hard to get Yumiko to talk with me; stubborn as she is.

Ugh, why did everything have to be so complicated!?

* * *

 **[Hachiman]**

Beware the fury of a patient man. **[1]**

It's obvious enough to say that every individual possessed a breaking point—the boundary that separates capability for logical assessment of a distressful situation and the instinctual need to beat the crap out of everything within vision; both direct and peripheral..

Now, I wouldn't say that the tolerance for pushing my buttons were nigh saint-like, but I can confidently say that I had patience in spades. I knew how to wait, and I knew how to hold my emotions back as simple as breathing. Then again, it comes from hours and hours of practice—especially now that my middle school class was becoming a hotbed for rumor-mongers and bullies alike, the regimen to train my patience has become rather rigorous.

The current situation was nothing I couldn't handle, but it was definitely something testing the limits of my good nature (or what remained of it). If there was one thing that rubbed me the wrong way, it was how some people could be so negligent of their forays into Japanese classic literature (or perhaps just literature in general). Surely, if normies have time to read bad fan fictions online to satiate their tendencies for being a romantic junkie in order to let ships sail and watch others sink like the Titanic, would it be so much trouble to actually flip through actual art written to stand against the tests of time?

And, maybe—just maybe—if Yuigahama Yui could just put her _damn phone_ down for one second to go through the study material, I would be able to hold a higher opinion of her.

Just a _wee_ bit more.

Then again, perhaps the reason for this purposeful ignoring of my existence might be linked to the chance meeting that had occurred yesterday afternoon. As unintended as my intrusion was, Yuigahama knew I bore witness to what was a private matter—she saw me, after all; and, apparently, her impression of me was not so great.

Well, luck would have it that I similarly did not hold such a good impression of her.

Today's lectures have been tweaked a little, and instead of the usual classroom method of teaching, students were paired off to conduct self-studying by themselves. The pairings were decided through the previous Classic Literature test—of the pair, one would have scored higher, the other would be possessing a score lower.

It was quite an ego boost to know that I had outranked Haya-something Haya-whatever in at least this subject—by a large margin, too! But having had a such a decent score in Classic Literature paved the way for me to be paired with the one student who actually had the _lowest_ score.

If her phone had the solution to giving her decent grades, then perhaps she should've been paired off with it. Gee, I wonder how good of a teacher a phone would be.

As miffed as I was about the situation, it was the perfect opportunity to go ahead and see if Yuigahama possessed any redeeming qualities that would distinguish her from the standard normalfag classification. So far, first impressions were not as promising, but I would be damned if I had drawn any conclusion from such a half-assed basis.

Let it be known that Hachiman, our lord and savior, did not half-ass the more life-threatening situations.

".. Fiddling with your phone accomplishes nothing short of getting worse grades."

I kept my tone as neutral as possible, even if a bit of venom wanted to leak through. The words were enough to elicit a response, though—but it wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting. There was clear surprise on her face, and a bashful glint clouding her eyes.

"Ah! Sorry. I'm, um, just a little out of it."

Well, now that I thought about it, there was an absent look in her eyes earlier while she blasted away message after message. Could it be she's been…?

My eyes traveled over to the far side, well away from our table, and there I spotted Drill Princess drooling all over the notebook she was writing on while Haya-something prattled on about his notes.

Note: I may have been exaggerating for added emphasis. She wasn't really droo—no, wait, she actually was. For all I knew, she might as well have been the source of the Niagara Falls.

I turned back to Yuigahama, and found her with a tired look. Really, I can't understand their relationship dynamic—it's too weird and unknown for me to try and think about. Might even give me a headache, too.

"… You saw what happened, right? Yesterday, I mean." The question was rhetorical, but I bit anyway.

"And if I did?"

There was no denial, nor was there confirmation. It was a challenge posed in order to gauge her choice of action in my supposed meddling (it's a bit too late to say supposed, though). Of course, this was the perfect opportunity to parley, and hopefully get things moving along to speed as to my needed course.

"Um, well, I'd just like it if you can keep it to yourself." Oh? The phrasing was undoubtedly more of a request than a demand—quite surprising because this was definitely not what I expected from a headstrong-looking girl such as her.

Then again, I could be wrong; she might have only said it as a request because she's already realized how bad her current position was, and that she would be unable to make any sort of demand. Maybe Yuigahama was actually an idiot savant—completely useless in academics, but utterly prodigious in reading people.

But when I look at her Literature scores, I'm less inclined to believe such a thing.

"Alright, I won't tell a soul." Yuigahama perked up at that. Too bad, Gahama-chan, but that joy's only for a split second.

"In exchange for a _favor_ , that is."

It was comical how her face shifted from elation to a frown, and then one of disgust. "I-It won't be anything s-strange, right?"

Oi, whatever it is you're thinking I'll make you do, my brain's definitely _not_ the one in the gutter!

"Of course not. Get your head out of the gutter, woman." Her response was to look embarrassed and glance away, much to my irritation.

"… What kind of favor, then?" I sighed. This girl… After a moment of getting my head on straight, I told her what I had in mind for our secret-for-a-secret.

Her flustered response raised all sorts of mixed signals.

* * *

From what amount of information I could gather from Yuigahama, making any sort of direct contact with Miura Yumiko would prove to be difficult (and dangerous to my body).

Underneath her facade of a lovestruck, middle-school girl was a sharp-tongued, violent, and temperamental beast. Well, no real shocker here—every girl might as well have one buried deep within their hearts; the only difference here is that Miura apparently was much more in-sync with this abyss-lurking leviathan.

The small glimpse into Miura's normal self was quite bland from my standpoint, but definitely not Yuigahama's. Assertive, blunt, fussy over her friends, unwilling to let people get close to her hurt—these were but from Yuigahama's experience, and as much as these were enlightening, it was bad practice to judge through the eyes of just one person, and a friend at that.

Accuracy aside, what I was looking for was something worth **exploiting** in Miura—an emotion, an attitude, a nervous tic, habit, or something along those lines—that would prove to be the easiest bait to use to clear up the misunderstanding between her and Yuigahama. It didn't have to be complicated; sometimes, even the simplest of solutions proved to be the most elegant.

Apart from having such a learning experience concerning the drill-haired girl, I also came to learn a bit more about the existence that was Yuigahama Yui.

As airheaded as she was, she was no idiot when it came to people. She came to see the lighter side of the spectrum, and from the way she smiled and talked you'd know she was one of those individuals who saw the glass half full. The way she told me of Miura hinted at just how she cherished their friendship, how she looked up to Miura's ability to be blunt and aggressive on the things she desired.

From our short interactions, as much as the many normalfag-tendencies she had irked me, they weren't being done for the sake of appearing trendy, hip, or popular. She simply did them because she had always done them—to her, there was purpose and use; as simple as that. She held no notions of popularity or staying with the trend because it was famous. She simple did so because she liked them, and found herself contented with such things.

Her capacity for kindness also astounds me. No matter how sparse our little "strategic meetings" were, she had noticed my penchant for a certain canned drink, and as such brought them whenever we had a talk—one for me, and one for her (although, she admitted they were a little too sweet for her taste). I tried paying her once, and it didn't end so well.

If this went on, I might end up hating myself more for what I was about to do...

* * *

"Was it really necessary to do what you did earlier?"

I threw a glance to my side and found that Yuigahama still hasn't touched her ramen. Seriously, that wasn't a good sign—this ramen was of top-quality preparation, and if someone didn't dig into it despite the aroma that wafted from the warm bowl, then they had something wrong with them.

I gave Yuigahama an apologetic look. "Sorry, but it was necessary. If you wanted to clear the air with Miura _on your terms_ , then _we_ have to be the ones to set the whole thing up." It was paradoxical how we needed Miura _jealous and annoyed_ in order to diffuse such emotions from her.

What I wanted was to have Miura approach Yuigahama in a situation where their current argument was non-existent—a scenario where Miura would have no choice but to accept the flow of conversation, not be the one to control it. If Yuigahama wanted the misunderstanding as clear as possible, she has to be the one to have power over how she wanted it discussed over.

The problem with arguments like this was that when both parties would already be willing to share their apologies to the other and clear the air, some measure of power would always be given over to whomever was the offended party. If, perchance, Miura was the one in control of their discussion during such a time, chances were that after the exchange of apologies, her pride would dictate that she in fact did _nothing wrong_ , and that some semblance of blame was still on Yuigahama's side for being the cause of the spat in the first place.

What Yuigahama needed here was a position in which her version of the story was to be the accepted one (well, because it was, in fact, _the truth_ ). Even if the goal truly was to fix their relationship, some kind of aftereffects were to be expected. One such aftereffect I wanted to appear was for Miura to gain some measure of acknowledgment that her perspective on things are not always just supposed to be the basis of decisions and actions.

"But, it looked like she got angrier at me." The mortified look on her face sent a stab of guilt through me, although it's not so apparent on the outside.

One thing I'm coming to terms with was that for a girl as wholly a normie, Yuigahama Yui wasn't just a Nice Girl for the sake of outside appearances. Though scant my experiences with her were, a slow unfolding was showing me that she was nice for the sake of it—her concern was every bit genuine, and her smiles hid no such ulterior motives. As enthusiastic as I was with the results of my little experiment, there was a hint of fear as to how she would treat me after _**everything**_ was said and done.

Well, I'm expecting rejection and disgust, but the real thing would probably be a bit worse than the whole ordeal with Orimoto.

"Her anger's a small price to pay for the eventual making up that I guarantee. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"… But was it really needed I chatted a bit with Hayama-kun? He seems like a nice guy, but, there's something… off about him."

It would be in the near future that I get surprised as to how Yuigahama has seen through a bit of Haya-something's mask.

* * *

"Ugh, this is so difficult."

I have learned all that was needed of Miura, and I was confident that the next day was finally the day this would all come into fruition. The tools needed to be prepared were ready, and I had no qualms as to how Yuigahama would be performing the next day… if she were truly every bit as driven as she claimed she was, then there would be very minimal hiccups in the plan.

The only problem that remained was the actual confrontation. How the hell do I pull it off?

"Onii-chan, you're all frowny and stuff. What's the problem?"

Ah, adorable little Komachi showing concern over her big brother. Such a wonderful sister you are! You've scored a ton of Komachi points!

"… Onii-chan's just trying to think of how people make up after an argument."

As painful as it was to admit, I possessed a severe lack in the "friendship" department, in which follows all other associated experiences and knowledge.

Komachi gave me a curious look. "Oh? You have friends now, onii-chan?"

Please don't look at me with such eyes. I'm gonna cry, you know? "Well, let's just say I know someone who's asking me for help about making up with their friend."

"Well, they just have to apologize to one another, don't they? All my friends do so."

If the world was as simple as that, then perhaps a lot of the things that have happened in history would never have occurred—all the tragedies that befell mankind due to conflict averted and prevented. However, the world isn't as naive as such, and only a handful of individuals can come to know the importance and simplicity of such an innocent act.

"Sometimes, Komachi, the world isn't as… simple as that. Remember the last time Mom and Dad fought?"

"Oh, I remember! That was when Dad had to sleep in a hotel by himself for a week, right? Mom only let him back in the house after he apologized for an hour straight outside the house."

What a frightening woman my mother is. I wonder, what beast lurks beneath the depths of her soul to be so fear-striking?

"But, you know, onii-chan. Sometimes friends end up saying sorry to each other after some kind of trouble between them happens, too."

Eh? Didn't that sound like a double negative? "Just what did you mean, Komachi?"

"Weeeeell, last time I fought with Kana-chan, I remember her getting really sick. She was out of school for two days, so I decided to go visit her, 'cause she was a great friend and I couldn't help worrying."

What a wonderful little sister this creature was. But, I digress.

"So I went to her house, and we ended up saying sorry to each other—but! She confessed that she faked getting sick, y'know!"

What.

"She totally did! But when I found out it was so she could let me forget being angry even for just a little bit so we could talk, I realized that she just wanted us to stay friends, y'know. It was totally touching for Komachi."

Lies. Deceit. Falsifications.

As much as they were tools of those who looked to be concerned only for themselves, they were also tools that could be utilized for the greater good of others, and of those in certain situations. When there were times that the truth was so painful, sometimes the lies said to comfort one help distract us from the agony, and serve to be a path to the truth after everything has numbed.

I hated lies. But sometimes they _**had**_ to be done. And so I had to do them, and I end up hating myself a little more.

Little sister, your friend's a devious one.

"Komachi, you just gave onii-chan a great idea. You get lots of points for this."

"Eh? Points?"

* * *

"Does it really have to be like this?"

I gave her a grim nod. There _were_ other ways, but this was the most necessary—both for her, and for the sake of my own ulterior motives.

Shit, Yuigahama's going to hate me by the end of this. Guaranteed.

By this point in time, Miura should have already received the messages; one, courtesy of Yuigahama; another, courtesy of me.

We were in one of the lesser occupied hallways within the cram school's facility. Right behind me was the fire exit, and to mine and Yuigahama's right was a view to the outside.

This was it. Do or die. Time to take position.

"Yuigahama."

"Y-Yes!?"

I backed her up against the wall, trapping both sides of escape with my arms as they pressed against the wall. A coldness crept up my spine, and my vision swam back to the moment I had seen the real Orimoto for the first time.

"Wait, what are you—you d-didn't say anything about t-this!"

Indifference. Apathy. Fury. All these and more colored my vision, and where Yuigahama stood, I could see no one else but the girl who opened my eyes to the truth of relationships.

"H-Hey… You're s-scaring me..."

Her nerves were fraying, and her legs seemed like they were going to give out anytime. Exactly as I needed her to be.

"Yuigahama."

Her eyes were in a panic. I called out her name in order to start what would be a very painful (mostly on my part) conversation, but the way I spoke was far colder than I had expected.

But it was necessary.

Get a grip, _Hachiman._

"Did you ever stop to think why I'd just help you like that? Being a stranger and all?"

She shook her head ever so slightly. Tears were pooling by the sides of her eyes. I started to feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

"Because I saw an opportunity. A chance to see if there were people out there who could prove my notions of truthfulness among people."

I was ranting at this point, like some B-class movie villain spilling his plans to the heroine as she waited for her rescuer.

"This was all a test. A ruse. You've been a guinea pig right from the start. I wanted to see how _real_ you could get."

The tears were already falling past her cheeks, and the shuddering of her quick breaths nearly gave me pause for a second—but onward I fared. The point of no return has long been crossed.

I'm sorry for deceiving a girl as nice as you.

"And you delivered. Congrats for that, I suppose."

I'm so sorry for being a trash of a human being.

"The test is far from over, however. I still need to see one more thing from you."

I'm sorry for taking advantage of you like this.

"W-What is it?"

" _ **Get your hands off of Yui, punk!**_ "

A gut-wrenching pain turns my vision white, and the last I scene I could remember before passing out on the floor was of Yuigahama getting dragged off by a furious Miura.

Well. Mission accomplished, I guess.

* * *

 **[1]** A line from John Dryden's _Absalom and Achitophel_.

 **Not a lot of references for this chapter.**

 **This A/N will be short. I admit, the chapter is confusing as hell (well, we'll see from your reactions), but that was because I split it in half—the second half would be Yuigahama's POV with all the events that had transpired (along with elaboration on the stuff that was _not_ mentioned here) as a companion piece. Once the next chapter is up, along with the REAL resolution the arc, we'll finally be moving on to Soubu High and all the hijinks that will come along with it.**

 **The semester has only ended, so I do have a bit of free time—however, I've only a week before summer classes start off this April. Don't worry, I plan to upload the next chapter much sooner than this one, as I already have the latter half which was split off this chapter in the works and being polished.**

 **I won't be able to respond to each review from the previous chapter, but as a general note: _thanks to everyone's support._ You guys have been fantastic thus far, and the response has been fairly positive for this work; especially since this _is_ my first written story. In all honesty, this was the first chapter I had written with much more difficulty, so feedback on this would be _very_ appreciated. Cheers!**

 **Read, review, and I'll see you next chapter.**

 *** Updated 3/29/2017. Thumbs up to _NirvanaFrk97_ for spotting the inconsistency. I was half-dead when I was finishing this XD**


	7. Chapter 7

**[Yui]**

Hikigaya Hachiman wasn't quite what I had expected.

Well, to be honest, I didn't really know what to expect of him—it was unfair to judge him just because of his looks, but I never did believe that tripe about "never judge a book by it's cover" thing. I mean, people were still guilty of doing it everyday (admittedly, even I am!), and just because it's some smart-sounding quote doesn't mean everyone listens (or should listen) to it.

Anyways, Hikki (I don't really like calling him Hikigaya-kun… it's too long!) was an actually okay guy—he even offered to help me solve my problem with Yumiko! I mean, don't get me wrong—he doesn't really know me or Yumiko; but something told me that he might be capable of doing something without having to be subjection… uh, subjecting… biased (yeah, that's it!)! Yeah; since he isn't biased, he'd be able to find a solution that's partial to the problem itself.

Though, I'm kinda worried about how he's going to handle it. On one hand, whatever he comes up with might end this silly thing between us; on the other, it might not work—worse, it could end up making things a whole lot worse.

Aah, thinking about these things just gets me all confused and stuff!

We met up a number of times—him, asking me all about Yumiko; me, explaining as much as I could about my friend. If I didn't give it a second thought, I might have said he was actually interested in Yumiko!

Diligently, he jotted down the stuff I said into some small notebook of sorts—small enough to put into your pocket—like he was some kind of detective. Well, he could pass as one; the way he asked stuff was straight to the point, he mulled over the notes like they were some great puzzle leading to some impressive answer; and he would make up scenarios and ask me how Yumiko would most likely act in them.

Normally, if people wanted friends to make up, they'd play devil's advocate and listen to both sides of the story. Oftentimes, the one really in the red is made to realize that they did something wrong and should apologize. The remaining party, though with absence of the actual mistake, should be humble enough to accept the apology and offer one as well just for the fact that their friendship ended up like that.

Well, that's what Hikki told me, anyway.

He also explained that since he was in no way really acquainted to us (I never told him how I knew him and his dad, hehe), then there was no way he could pull off devil's advocate for our problem. With that came an entirely different plan of getting me out of this misunderstanding with Yumiko.

It might be too early to say it, but I think I can really trust him with this.

And I'm curious about that favor he asked me of, too.

* * *

His taste for drinks was unexpected, too.

I took a sip of that MAXX Coffee thing he always bought from the vending machines, and it was a bit too sweet for my taste, especially since Yumiko and I frequent a few cafes around our school—I've had my fair share of different coffee flavors, too.

Even if it _was_ out of my strike zone as far as coffee was concerned, there were some few cases where I bought the beverage for him. He's already asked me for a favor in exchange for his help, but I just felt like doing this. Hikki wasn't that bad of a guy, so I figured why not be more supportive of his effort? He seems like he really cared about my problem, and invested a good amount of time in it. Besides, doing the favor he asked of me didn't seem as… equal, as far as exchanges were concerned. If I didn't buy him the canned beverage, it felt like I was abusing him or something. It left a really bad taste in my mouth! So to speak.

"Hey, Hikki."

"… Stop calling me 'Hikki.'"

"Don't be so nitpicky about it! Anyways, how come you like this stuff so much?"

Something about what I said must've been wrong, because he looked at me like I didn't know the answer to 1 + 1 despite being a middle schooler. That's so rude, you know!

"'This stuff?' ' _This stuff?_ ' Are you looking down on MAX Coffee? If you are, get down on your knees and apologize to the can!"

It was a bit weird to have someone be so worked up like this over a can of coffee. I mean, I've never seen anyone be like this over something so trivial. Maybe, he just liked it? A little too much, too, I supposed.

"Eh, what are you saying Hikki? I'm just asking you what you like about it, is all."

"Hmph. Plebeians won't understand this miraculous step into the 21st century. So, listen up!" Plebe—what?

Hikki spent the next few minutes shooting his mouth off and praising MAX Coffee, and how it was the next best thing that man invented next to fire. Geez, I don't really understand how one person can't get tired of drinking something so sweet! Well, maybe I shouldn't judge so easily—it might have some special meaning to him!

Mama always told me that it was impossible to not judge a person, so the best thing a person could do instead was to view things in different ways to come to a better understanding. Hikki definitely fell under the type of person who would have so much more to him despite how he looked and acted.

"What's most important, after all, is that since life is already too bitter, then coffee should be sweet—ugh, what the hell am I doing, telling you this… Anyway, let's get back to you telling me all about Miura. The more I know, the easier this is going to be."

 _Life's too bitter, so coffee should at least be sweet._

It was something surprising. I've always admired people who followed their personal beliefs and principles even in reality, but this is something of a different kind. It's like Hikki's already learned a lot about living his life, that he's already sure of the things he's doing—down to the letter.

Even if it was for something as simple as drinking MAX Coffee.

It made me think about just how bitter life has turned out for me and Mama: being fooled by a criminal, fending off for ourselves, me getting into fights like this with even my closest friend…

Suddenly, the beverage I was drinking started to taste a whole lot better, and Hikki was making more and more sense.

* * *

I don't get it.

Why would he do such a thing?

He was helping me with no other reason other than the favor he asked me of (which seemed like a very small favor, at that), and yet the energy he was pushing into having Yumiko and I be able to reconcile over our misunderstanding was more than what a stranger would be giving out.

I could even consider him as a friend; well, not someone as close as Yumiko, but maybe as an acquaintance I'd like to get to know over a longer period of time. But when he cornered me then and there, telling me that he was just taking advantage of mine and Yumiko's situation in order to get something out of it, it was kind of jarring.

We might not have been close enough yet, but I could tell he was a really good guy. Sure, he looked like some delinquent, what with his eyes and everything, but his character didn't speak on the same language his looks did.

Whatever happened after Yumiko dragged me off all happened as if they were a blur—her apology, me forgiving her, assuring her that I support her romantic run with Hayama-kun, telling her not to go after Hikki. I remembered saying goodbye quickly, and walking on home in a daze; my head was in the clouds, wracking my brain for some reason Hikki did whatever it was he did.

"… _I saw an opportunity. A chance to see if there were people out there who could prove my notions of truthfulness among people."_

Truthfulness among people? What did he mean by that? People being honest? Was it something about being able to know the real feelings of another?

" _This was all a test. A ruse…"_

Was it all lie? The more I thought about it, the harder it was to believe. In the end, Yumiko and I got together again, despite the silly reasons behind the misunderstanding. Sure, it was stupid to think she'd get jealous all because I looked like I had any interest in Hayama-kun, but the emotions behind it couldn't have been any less strong or real. Our fight _was real_ , but how was it in a way a test?

"… _I wanted to see how real you could get. And you delivered. Congrats for that, I suppose."_

How real I was? Somehow, I had passed with flying colors with whatever it was he wanted to see. But, nothing made sense to me. What was he after? Why was it that whatever I and Yumiko did important?

It made my head spin and left me confused. At this point I didn't know what to make of him. Whatever time we spent planning to get me friends with Yumiko again left me with more questions than answers.

Before I could put aside the issue and give myself a long rest, my phone rang out to notify me of mail; snatching it off of my bedside table, I took a look to check if I could just send a reply tomorrow after sleep, but the sender got me off guard.

The decision to sleep was put to the side and I browsed quickly through the contents of my mail.

 _After next cram school session. Bench by the tutorial center's open area. I'll wait for an hour._

* * *

 **[Hachiman]**

A relationship where no one had to lie, where everyone could be honest; could rely on one another—

Did such a relationship exist?

Was it possible for such a thing to exist?

Maybe yes, maybe no.

Humans are imperfect, after all. Flawed to an extent, yet still with potential for something more. There are those who are proud to wear both the good and the bad for everyone to see, for they fear no scrutiny as long as they were true to the identity they possessed. There are those with insecurities and faults too numerous to say, who hide the truth about them underneath piles of lies, lies, and more lies.

Whether it was the former or the latter, it made the ideal of a genuine relationship seem more and more as just that: an ideal. Something good on paper, but not on practical.

I am of the opinion that lying—twisting the truth, fabricating a convenient reality that you force unto another—is an action truly despicable and detestable. I hated it when I told on bullies and was made to look like the wolf, when I was nothing else but the black sheep, as adults listened to beautifully composed notations of deceit. I hated it when a classmate invited me over for a birthday party, only for me to realize that the venue and time didn't match reality. I hated liars and the very act they did because I've been the target of them, and I knew just how unpleasant such things could be.

I hated lying, because it made me hate people—filled me with distrust, wariness, and anxiety.

People told lies to rest themselves assured on the fact that they could get away with something they didn't have the luxury of telling even half the truth of. It was more convenient for them to say something false, fool another into thinking it was reality, and wash their hands of such a sin merely for the reason that they wanted to be rid of the inconveniences brought by telling the truth. In short, they escaped reality by twisting it to their own designs and preferences.

What I did to Yuigahama did not border—not even near!—the arts of deceit. I admit that I did hide motives and bits of information from time to time, but refusing to say anything was the lesser evil if to choose between silence and fabrications was the choice I would make any time of the day. Did hiding something from another and not bothering to share unless asked constitute as lying? I didn't believe it so—however, there are those who would debate the fine points of such a morally grey action.

At first, she seemed like the typical Nice Girl who would put forth an effort to keep those around her in a pleasant mood. She was approachable and bubbly (though her Academics stat needs some work), and kind to those who would be in need of it. So to speak, Yuigahama Yui fit the mold of the stereotypical facade used by Orimoto and what other pretentious girls I've met in middle school.

However, she turned out to be far, _far_ different from the kinds of girls I knew.

Yuigahama was not nice for the sake of appearances, but because she truly did care—to the point that it may seem a bit invasive to people she might not know closely but still attempt to help. She was nice for the sake of being nice.

Truly, a diamond in the rough.

All was done for me cling onto the hope that there existed people out there who were genuine enough to show me the best of themselves in spite of whatever scrutiny they would be put under. Yuigahama Yui was someone capable of staying true to her kind self, as long as it meant that she stayed friends with a girl who seemed to be quite unworthy of her graces.

What I did, outside of my opinion, was questionable at least, and wretched at the most. To exploit the existing circumstances that held a relationship with a thin thread ready to break at any moment and manipulate it in order to receive answers under optimal conditions—this was nothing else if not the brainchild of a sociopath; uncaring of those around him, and only after the self-satisfaction brought by his logical experimentation.

Such a monster my logic has given birth to, it seems.

I checked my watch, looking at the hands with some sort of anxiety that crept from the pits of my stomach. _Six more minutes_ , I mused. Six more minutes to see if she was ready for my disclosure, and the explanation of what I wanted to discover. Six more minutes to determine whether or not I was a step closer in understanding the world that turned without so much as a care to my existence.

 _Five minutes._

* * *

" _Yui."_

" _Erm, Yumiko?"_

" _Why were you following **him**? Did you already forget what he tried to do to you?"_

"… _I need to ask him why he had to do it."_

" _What do you mean ask? What the hell is there to ask?! He tried making a move on you, that creep, and I have half a mind to go directly to one of the teachers around here and report him, if not for you constantly talking me out of it!"_

" _But there's something else—"_

" _Then what else is there, Yui?! Tell me, what else is there that you have to talk to him about? Is he blackmailing you? Do you actually know him? Tell me what it is, or god forbid me, I'll just have to drag you out of here."_

* * *

 _Would she forgive me?_ I mused.

Maybe yes, maybe no. You say goodbye, and I say hello **[1]**. The odds of fifty-fifty were the worst, in my opinion—but then again, perhaps I should side with optimism for this one. Surely, a girl as nice as Yuigahama would have a better chance of actually coming here to gain some clarity as to the situation?

 _Four minutes._

* * *

"… _I can't tell you, Yumiko. This is… between him and_ — _"_

" _So you do know him. Why is it that you seem to think a creep like him with some ulterior motive seems to be much more important than us right now? I told you I wanted to spend time with you as an apology for what I did, but now you turn away from that just so you can get cornered again?"_

No, I shouldn't be too presumptuous about such things. Stereotyping into a category such as that one was not something I should easily fall to.

 _Three minutes._

" _I-I can't tell you, Y-Yumiko, I'm sorry!"_

"…"

" _Yumiko… ?"_

" _Have it your way, Yui. You fix our bridges, or you chase after that pervert and this is where we part ways. Which is it? C'mon, we don't have all day."_

* * *

The taste of iron started to replace the bitter tang of MAX Coffee in my mouth. I had bitten my lower lip a little too hard because of anxiety, it seemed.

 _Two minutes._

Here it came. The disappointment was already rising up like bile from my stomach, and a sinking sensation came with it to smash against the uncomfortable feelings my body was dredging up.

 _One minute._

* * *

" _Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't worry about it so much, okay Yui? Just forget about that delinquent and we can make up for lost time."_

"… _Yeah."_

" _Alright, let's go. Hayato's waiting for us, after all!"_

* * *

…

…

…

"… What was I thinking. Of course she wouldn't go, favor or no."

It was more than disappointing. There wasn't quite a word in my limited vocabulary to describe the feeling, but disappointment and regret underscored what it was that I felt. I should have expected this, really. A societal heretic like me, adhering to rules and notions outside of the norm, would sooner or later encounter something that would solidify the entire fact that the actions I performed contained more harm than benefit.

Case in point: this. Whatever this… _shit_ was.

I tossed the empty can into the nearby bin, collected my sparse belongings and trudged towards the exit. What a miserable close to such a miserable act.

The scent of peaches lingering along the hallway didn't quite register as I walked out.

* * *

"… And that's what happened."

"I see."

This sucked. The coffee didn't seem to register on my tastebuds as my mind raced against nothing more with the thoughts of what had occurred during my interference regarding the relationship of Miura Yumiko and Yuigahama Yui. As distracted as I was, the words flowed easily in narrative—dad ended up wanting to hear what was bugging me, and I was more willing than I originally thought in providing him details.

"30 points, Hachiman. Failing score."

"A score for what, old man?"

Dad took a good, long sip from his can of MAX before looking at me—this was the first time I could recall I've withered under his gaze. He wasn't angry, that much I could tell; no, what his eyes radiated was in no part something of anger, but more of a bitterness that I was quite familiar with. Intimately.

Disappointment. Yes, that was exactly it.

"People don't exactly think the way you—or I, for that matter—do. They won't always understand that sometimes, the masks we wear are the product of cold logic and reasoning. Those who do not and wish not to are inherently selfish that they would see only the effect brought upon them, ignoring the fact that perhaps an understanding could be reached by understanding the motives of the other."

I wanted to understand people—see how they tick, even if in the end it was something displeasing and questionable. As long it would reach a genuine understanding, I was fine with it.

Pursuing that relentlessly, I had forgotten to take into account the fact that not everyone wanted to be understood, nor was it that everyone was capable of understanding. Just as I pursued ideals for my self-satisfaction, so too did they satisfy their selves by shutting out others and seeing only themselves.

"What do you think I'm getting at, Hachiman?"

It was so simple, I could definitely understand the disappointment he felt.

"I manipulated the situation to my liking without taking into account the fact that these were people, and that emotional mess I'd leave behind would always be something I can't just change to my liking."

Emotions didn't always line up with logic. Seldom were the two capable of reaching a harmonious ecosystem when it comes to dealing with people. I ignored the fact that Yuigahama would have trouble debating whether to speak with me again and believed solely that because she owed me, because she possessed interest in what it was I wanted, she would come to hear me out and come to an understanding of my undertaking.

"It was a girl, wasn't it."

I choked on my drink. "H-How'd you know?!"

"Guys don't look as guilty when dealing with other guys. Stranger or someone you know?"

"We met only at cram school."

"Stranger then. Stacked or flat? Is she a looker?"

"What does her bust size have to do with this?! Or her looks for that matter?!"

"Hmm. She's stacked and pretty. Damn, you screwed up." I can't tell if his grin's gloating or just plain amusement. Perhaps it was both.

"What was her name?"

I took another sip. "You probably don't even know her. If you plan on stalking her, I'm telling mom."

The way he flinched was enough of a reaction to trigger the same damned despicable grin on my face. "I won't stalk. I don't stalk. And if you tell your mother such blatant lies, expect a budget cut over your allowance brat. Now, name?"

"… Yuigahama Yui."

Shit, old man! Don't spit your coffee on me! Say sorry to the gods of MAX, dammit! Apologize in _seiza_!

"Say that name one more time."

"Yuigahama Yui. What, the kid of someone you know?"

He narrowed his eyes to the point I had to wonder if he had eyes at all. "You have _no idea_ , Hachiman."

… There appears to be a story behind this. And I can already tell that it's too complicated for my tastes.

* * *

 **[1]** _Hello, Goodbye_ by the Beatles.

 **And so ends the Middle School Arc in a very convoluted, anticlimactic, cliffhanger. Applause, applause.**

 **I live. Told you guys I'd be updating soon. _*wink*_**

 **Anyways, the dynamic between Yuigahama and Miura here was something I wanted to delve into as I kept peeking back into Season 1 and the earlier novels, where Yuigahama couldn't quite give voice to her own wants and decisions and was being pushed into things by Miura. Operating on the idea of a friendship between the two stemming as far back as middle school, this Miura won't be the type all too similar to that of the anime.**

 **Though it has been hinted and shown multiple times in the light novels and anime, I am of the firm belief that despite Miura being inclined to want to help her friends and/or preserve the dynamic of her clique, at the core of it all was still a priority to be with Hayama. As much as I do enjoy reading the multiple Hikkiura fanfics out there, there are those that catch me a bit off guard because IMO the Hayama wall 8man would have to overcome which looms over Miura's heart would have to be as difficult as possible. Well, at least that's what I think about those with plot lines concerning a confused Miura, a hesitant 8man, and the riajuu-bomb Hayama.**

 **In terms of characters and understanding them, so far I've been encountering some difficulty in how I would be handling Yuigahama in the future. As much as I have a rough idea on how to progress with the story, characterizations are still a pain in the ass. At the core of it all, we'd have the Yuigahama we all know and love. However, I've got plans, and so far trying to go back and forth through the novels have made me appreciate and curse the subtlety and thought Watari-sensei has put into creating Yuigahama. I'll strive to go through this hurdle, though—you can count on that.**

 **Enough of my personal ranting. Bottomline: this AU Miura will strive to show more balance between spending time with friends and mooning over Haya-something Haya-whatever.**

 **To those concerned about updates, I've got good news and bad news.**

 **Bad news is that this semester looks to be more hectic (I've got a lot of classes that are software-output oriented in terms of requirements) so updates are to be far and few in between. Best case scenario is me updating every 3 – 4 weeks; worst case is me updating every 4 – 6 weeks. But I at least _will_ be sure that a monthly update will be coming.**

 **Good news is that the semester has just started, which means once I hit my stride in getting used to the flow of things and my schedule, my writing speed will be increasing and perhaps I can be ahead of my projected update schedule. Expect longer chapters as well, ranging from about 5k – 8k words (or more, if I can pull it off lol). Also, as the first arc has come to a close, I can already tell everyone that the next update will see us jump into Soubu finally. Which junction of the high school arc? I'll leave that to your imagination.**

 **Also, thank you to all those who take the time to read and review the chapters. While I am no professional in writing, your support means the world to me as a trashy uni student looking to use writing as both a creative outlet and a stress reliever. I'm glad there are those who take interest in the same ideas that capture me.**

 **I look forward to the constructive criticisms and reviews. I'll see you guys next chapter.**

 **PS. Granblue's next Unite and Fight will see me busy. So, yeah. If you guys play, you know how much of grind hell we're in (and I'm in, since I main Light kek).**


	8. Chapter 8

**[Hachiman]**

Individuals are much like a scientist's worst fears come to life in an experiment—unpredictable, ever-changing, and subject to an endless number of unknown variations that make utterly less sense than a four-year old's crayon illustration. Isolation of a bacteria strain to study its reproductive cycle? Be my guest; observing the reactions exhibited by a sample of people towards existing social issues?

Sounds like a troublesome waste of time.

Perhaps both the most amazing and annoying thing about humanity in general is one's ability of self-cognizance. The freedom to form opinions, to make decisions, to make one's life as one dictated it so—all these forms of nondeterminism in activity throws a wrench into the well-oiled clockwork of life and creates some sort of organized chaos-slash-chaotic order that may as well be the very foundation existence bases itself upon.

Of course, being the idiot that I am, it was this that I had completely missed.

Where had I gone wrong with Yuigahama? How did I end up digging a grave entirely for myself? What was the likelihood that she would approach me still?

I asked myself these questions, and like a river cascading down a cliffside and into a thunderous, roaring waterfall, the answer came down on me forcefully:

I favored the situations leading to my liking under the assumption that, odds were, they _would_ go to my liking.

Rumors spread like the plague at school regarding my "botched confession" with Orimoto. The girl in question would have no doubt just passed it off as some awkward story to her friends (without any ill intentions), and from there it had evolved into something else considering the overactive imaginations of pubescents and their propensity for embellishment.

That, and teenagers these days have nothing better to do than scrutinize the life of others, and take some twisted form of amusement from the misery other people drowned in.

But, I digress.

Those rumors spread because I _had expected them to_. I did not need any sort of engine to start it up and see what kind of reaction it garners from the masses—I had made the decision under the belief that Orimoto herself would be causal enough to start something even without meaning to, as she is the popular girl her image has become.

Yuigahama confronting me post-haste also worked with an assumption. I _expected_ that she would confront me for answers regarding what I did (along with the actual message asking her to meet me), as I had come to infer from observing her that she simply did not simply let things go without reaching some sort of understanding from it. Case in point: she wished to confront Miura concerning her petty jealousy getting in the way of their friendship, which was a decision made from her understanding why Miura had begun acting as so.

Assumptions. Likelihoods. Expectations. Pretenses.

I wanted to understand people, and yet such a wish backfired almost immediately because I was working with assumptions. I ruled out unlikely scenarios just because of the thought that "they seem far too unlikely to happen in real life."

I went through this process entirely **wrong**.

People aren't non-cognizant test subjects. Feelings aren't just data. Scenarios aren't as deterministic as choosing A, B, or C. I jumped in disregarding all of these, and in the end I had gone to an attempt (and to an extent succeeded) in manipulating the relationship between two unsuspecting girls in order to satisfy my desires.

It was utterly disgusting to me, now that I've reflected.

Partaking in the circumstances surrounding individuals within the scope of a relationship was being too nosy and presumptuous. It wasn't my business to butt in that situation, and from the viewpoint of another colleague of theirs, perhaps, their thinking would be along the lines of "who does this guy think he is?!"

The right to interfere was not mine, nor anybody else's. To understand another person, and the relationships and circumstances that followed that individual, meant that a relation with them should first be established. Know them, spend time with them, come to terms with the person that they are. And once that bears fruit, then an understanding can be reached.

I'm not so far gone with my ideals and notions to wish for a world where a complete understanding can be reached and no one would be hurt. No—with the complete objectivity needed with the case regarding individuals, realism still needs to be considered. Compromises will not be permitted, because such things end up with no one getting what they want and are dissatisfied.

I wish to understand people. I wish to form genuine relationships, where the need for lies and deception is non-existent. This is not perfect. This is not easy. People will get hurt, and I—moreso.

But there isn't anything to stop me from still lessening the pain from those who'd get hurt. Bonds are, after all, to be treasured. Who am I to suddenly just forget the ones hurt?

It's quite unfair, a part of my brain says. You got hurt before, and they forgot you like the passing dust in the wind. Irrelevant. Insignificant. A tumbling cog that doesn't fit with the rest of the clockwork, left on the floor to rust away and forgotten to the sands of time. _Do as they did_ , a vengeful part of me whispers. _Those who hurt you and wish to cut ties should also be left forgotten. They deserve it._

Despite that nagging voice, a part of me stays vehemently against such a notion. It was a cycle of hate—simple as that. To be hated, and then to hate; it inspires nothing more than an endless string where no true relationships can be made. The notion of trying to understand others is foreign. The pursuit of truth between two people is naught but a jest.

I didn't want to be bitter. I didn't want to hate. I didn't want to become part of a cycle that denied my fervent wishes of the heart.

Accepting that there are those who cannot mesh with you is an understanding. To move on from such a fact means that one is capable of freeing themselves from the shackles of bitterness and hate. With that in mind, I'd like to think that I am at least mature enough, capable of such things despite whatever pain lies ahead.

For the umpteenth time, I turned over the piece of paper in my hand, something given to me by my father. His handwriting, sharp and precise strokes that curved ever so slightly (it unnerves me that even _our handwriting is so damn similar_ ), formed numbers for a household phone number, underneath the residence name:

 _ **{Yuigahama Residence}**_

I sighed. Really, I should stop doing so—I'm starting to feel like an old man! This was a way to clarify whatever was misunderstood with, at the very least, but the main intention here is for me to apologize to Yuigahama for what I had done. She wasn't nice because she was obligated to be nice for others, but because inherently she was someone who grew up being so. She didn't deserve being used like that for my sick and twisted wants, and I have to make sure that that point gets across.

The phone rang—once, twice; my heartbeat sped up and I wanted to slam the phone down and rethink doing this. But I quashed down whatever traitorous thoughts came up, and anxiously waited for someone to pi—

 _[Hello~! This the Yuigahama residence. May I ask who's calling?]_

My mind stalled a few seconds, surprised at the bubbly voice that spoke from the other side. _What a carefree sounding person_ , I thought.

"E-erm, g-good morning. This is Hikigaya—"

 _[Huee?! Hikki?!]_

 _What kind of name is that?!_ "Hikigaya Hachiman. My father was the one who gave me your contact details, since I wanted to talk to your daughter."

 _[O-oh. Fufu, please excuse my outburst! You sound a whole lot like your father when he was younger, you know? It brings back some really good memories~! Oh, where are my manners! This is Yuigahama Yuno, Yui's mother. You wanted to speak with my cute daughter, was it?]_

"A-ah, yes; is she home? I don't want to intrude if she's busy." The sheer energy this woman was exuding was… peculiar, to say the least. Just how did she know dad?

 _[Yes, she's definitely home! And no, she's definitely free! Ara ara, this daughter of mine, not telling her mother she knew such a gentleman as yourself. It saddens me, she's growing up too fast… Oh but I'm rambling, aren't I? Please wait while I fetch her!]_

… What a person, this mother is. Over the line I could practically here her excitedly calling her daughter over, followed by a surprised outburst from said daughter. Gee, my low-powered AA self can't match these Duracell brands…

 _[… Hikki? What was it you wanted?]_

I gulped. You could hear the trepidation from Yuigahama's voice from over a mile away. My mind was in a rush. The piece I had composed vanished from the top of my head, and my voice refused to cooperate.

Could I fix this? Whatever this relationship was. Even if it wasn't friendship, but something born out of some mutual partnership, what I did left a nasty taste in my mouth and I didn't want that ruining what could be something hopeful if I nurtured the fragile link between me and Yuigahama.

Yes, we weren't friends, and we were barely acquaintances; but who said I wanted it to stay that way?

"Yuigahama. Are you free today? I wanted to meet up—to talk, about what happened. And to explain some things. What I did, and what could've gone wrong; I want to apologize for it and explain myself. You don't have an obligation to forgive me, but if you'll be willing to give me a chance… well. Please."

 _[…]_

Anxiety flowed up and down my body like an unwanted poison, pooling discomfort from head to toe. The silence on the other side was pretty damning, and the guilt that came with it was deafening enough to contrast with the quiet.

 _[G-Got it. Wanna meet up by the local aquarium? We could talk there. I wanna hear what Hikki has to say.]_

The tension eased out of me. Finally, a small shard of hope dangled in front of me, tied to the most fragile-looking of strings. It hung so precariously, spinning ever so slowly, and the fear that it might snap before I could go reach for it came across my mind ever so fleetingly.

But, no, I don't want that. I'll make sure to catch it. Even if the string does snap and that gem falls, I'll be sure to jump for it and take hold of it, even if it meant that I had to crash and burn. Things as fragile as relationships work ever so similarly, and even if whatever I had going with Yuigahama—no, _Yui_ —was as small as a molehill, who's to say it can't ever be a mountain?

She was different. I could sense that. There was some quality to her similar to a rough cut of some mined stone, that needed some polishing in order to its real value to surface.

And Yui's value can only ever be brought out through a genuine, human connection. One that has to be nurtured with experiences, hardships, laughter, tears, and every headache and joy that came with being with other people.

I wanted to see that. Nothing comes out from rejecting possibility. I might have denied such a thing with my classmates and Orimoto, what with the bitterness that still crept through me from traitorous thoughts leading to them, but I'm not going to let that go with Yui.

If I did, something was telling me I would be regretting it. For the rest of my life.

"Thank you. I'll see you later then. Take care, Yuigahama."

* * *

 **Short, but all I can give out for now.**

 **I'm sorry for the extremely long absence. Life has been punishing, dreadful, and all sorts of nasty, but we gotta tough it out. No giving up. I've been sick a lot, and since I'm in my graduating year, I have to take care of my health since it's also thesis year. But that's not gonna stop me soon—no sir.**

 **Updates will be more sporadic, but I've got several write-ups on this already on-going. For those who still stick around for the ride, thank you very much for not giving up on me. I'll be a while with writing, but I'll make sure to deliver just for you guys who are invested in this just as I am. I'll be updating Stalwart soon enough, as well.**

 **Til next time.**


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